


Until I Cry That Now I Must Try Your Greed

by witching_wingthorns



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arthur is a Prat, Begging, Bondage, But Accidentally Backstory Too, But flashbacks where Arthur is thirsty and imagines things while Merlin is under 18, Crying, D/s elements, Eventual Fluff, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Merlin Using Titles Like They’re Insults, Merlin is a Little Shit, Might add warnings/additional tags to the beginning notes of some chapters, Mostly No Archive Warnings Apply, Possessive Behavior, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slight Age Difference (2 Years), Spanking, so much porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22162690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching_wingthorns/pseuds/witching_wingthorns
Summary: “Long enough, Merlin-” Arthur said, stepping closer and closer until Merlin’s arse was backed against the counter and his heart felt like it was gonna beat right out of his chest, “-to hear, ‘Oh Arthur, it’s been so long since I last had the chance to shamelessly drool all over you, may I please get down on my knees and suck your cock now? Please, please, please?’”The flush came back to Merlin’s face, this time accompanied by a very overwhelming, very sudden spike in arousal as he was assaulted by the sound of those filthy, mocking words, by the realisation that Arthur’s arms were on each side of him, trapping him in the tight space between his broad frame and the sharp-edged counter.In which Merlin’s a virgin but not a particularly good one, Morgana thinks her brother is a complete arse and Arthur is perhaps abitof an arse. Additionally, he might occasionally be a tiny, tiny bit scary, but luckily Merlin is great atescalatinghandling that part of him, so really it’s all bound to go very smoothly.Or: Four years of Merlin being an incredibly stubborn, entirely irresistible little trollop and the weekend where Arthur finally gets to retaliate.
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 193
Kudos: 393





	1. glinting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing when you have a million things you're supposed to do and you end up doing something else entirely? Well...

Morgana’s decorating skills were entirely without comparison. The Pendragon estate (as Merlin liked to call the ridiculous monstrosity of a house that she and Arthur had grown up in) had been a haunted mansion, a medieval fortress, a fairytale castle, had been so many wondrous things, had hosted parties so spectacular that Merlin thought he might just remember them for the rest of his life.

And that was perhaps why _this_ party - consisting of just a few cases of beer, a slight rearranging of the tables, a Spotify playlist booming out over the house’s speaker system - was so strange and so disappointing.

But then, it _wasn’t_ a _birthday_ party.

Morgana had told him so quite adamantly, had informed him repeatedly that they _weren’t_ celebrating him, that it was just a very, very casual thing and so Merlin really shouldn’t bother to invite anyone. Which was to say, Merlin shouldn’t invite one very specific person.

And well, Merlin actually hadn’t. For once, he had actually listened to her (possibly because he still felt a little guilty about missing a good portion of his 17th birthday party, even if Morgana insisted it wasn’t _him_ she was mad at about that), but he had found when he arrived that there was a certain overpriced, douchy sports car in the driveway anyways, and his heart had been thrumming, buzzing, thumping in his chest all evening, stealing away his focus whenever he thought he saw a strand of blond hair in the crowd of drunk high school students.

Right now though, his attention was somewhat captured by watching Gwaine’s horrid attempt at participating in beer pong. The little, white ball he’d just thrown was bouncing over the table, hopping right off the edge, miles and miles away from where Gwen and Morgana’s remaining cups were shaped into a little pyramid.

_Well_ , neither Merlin or Gwaine had actually managed to get _any_ of the blasted little things into _any_ cups so it was all of them, all six cups placed in the pyramid, while Merlin and Gwaine only had two standing before them. It was entirely embarrasing and Merlin told Gwaine so quite emphatically, told him that he was going to do much better (even if his track record was just as miserable as Gwaine’s) and threw the ball he’d been holding.

It went off the table at the opposite side of Gwaine’s, just as horridly far from its goal and Gwaine laughed, loud and joyful despite their agonising defeat, shoved Merlin’s shoulder with his own and asked him if he hadn’t meant to, “do better, _Mer_ lin?”

Which honestly annoyed Merlin quite a bit, because that wasn’t Gwaine’s _thing_ , that didn’t belong to him and he really had no business imitating it. He would have told him so, perhaps once might have, but didn’t feel particularly like unleashing an endless stream of tirades and complaints and all manners of unpleasantness, so he didn’t say anything out loud, just watched quietly as first Morgana, then Gwen aimed and each got a ball into one of the remaining cups they had been aiming for. Merlin shared a sigh with Gwaine at the inevitable result of the game and they each picked up one of the cups to start out on the eight they’d now had to drink.

“Why’re we so _bad_ at this?” Merlin whined after he’d downed it, immediately trying to suppress the flat, luke-warm, generally-horrible taste that lingered in his mouth.

“Mmh, we’re not bad, Merlin, ’s just that they’re really good. ’S not our fault.”

Merlin nodded sagely at Gwaine’s wise words, slung an arm around him for both moral and physical support.

Morgana and Gwen were watching them with smug smiles - well, Morgana looked rather smug, Gwen looked as pleasant and nice as she nearly always did - and Morgana curled an arm around her girlfriend’s waist, let her voice be just as self-satisfied as her smile when she said,

“One more round, boys?” while quirking an eye brow up in challenge.

Merlin downed his second cup and shook his head weakly, looked around the expansive, high-ceilinged living room to scan the crowd once more, feeling his patience and sensibility slip away when he still didn’t find what he was looking for. He let himself ask a little,

“Morgana, there’s a car outside, is that-”

“ _No,_ ” came the immediate, firm response and Merlin huffed at the blatant lie, protested,

“But it _is_.”

The glare he received in return was crackling with cold fury, entirely worthy of an ancient, evil sorceress and quite possibly a fully functional murder weapon.

“ _Doesn’t matter._ He’s not home anyways.”

Merlin thought she might be lying about that too. Also thought she would likely physically restrain him if he tried to go upstairs to check, so instead he put on his best kicked-puppy pout, said,

“But Morganaaa, I just wanna _talk_ to him, I haven’t seen him in _months_.”

And that wasn’t even a lie. _Well_ , it was only half a lie. It was true that he hadn’t _seen_ Arthur for months, but he _had_ been talking to him over the phone just a couple of days ago, chatting about nothing and everything in that way they did. Well, in that way Merlin did and Arthur would pretend to pretend to listen, answering with little ’ _Mmh_ ’s and ’ _Yeah_ ’s and declaring afterwards that he hadn’t caught a word of it, but often proving remarkably good at remembering things he hadn’t heard.

Also, there might be a small amount of things that Merlin wanted a bit more than talking, a few, _few_ things that he’d been wanting for far too long now, was as determined at getting as he’d ever been.

Which, perhaps, Morgana was slightly aware of, which was perhaps why her nostrils were flaring, why her glare turned into a scowl when she sneered,

“Oh _please_. I know what you wanna _do,_ ” and her face steadily picked up a deep crimson colour, that told Merlin (who was quite well educated in Pendragon facial expressions) just how much good was gonna come out of the following conversation.

“Look, Merlin…” she started again, something patronising layering into her tone now, “He just turned up yesterday out of nowhere, completely unannounced, and he- he-”

She bit off the last of her sentence, slipped away from Gwen to saunter over to him, grab him by the shoulders and quite menacingly say,

“Just _stay away_ from him.”

Gwaine stepped out from under Merlin’s arm, took a few steps away to a somewhat safer distance, while Merlin stayed right where he was, straightened his back and looked right into her eyes.

“I can handle him just fine, you know. You don’t need to protect me.”

“No you _can’t_ , that’s exactly the point, that’s exactly why I _do_ protect you. You don’t know him, don’t know why he’s even…”

She trailed off with an irritated sigh, let go of Merlin, then narrowed her brows with an additional, “Just _stay away,_ ” before she stalked off. Gwen trailed after her, probably to calm her down, sending a little glance in Merlin’s direction that was half sympathy, half reproachful ’you should listen to her’.

“She’s probably right, you know.”

A deep, tired groan escaped Merlin.

“Not you too, Gwaine.”

“Well I just mean… Morgana’s right, he’s- There’s something about him, isn’t there? Something kind of… unsettling. Besides, you don’t even know if he goes for blokes. And even if he does, he’s- _gorgeous_.”

Most of that had been tuned right out of Merlin’s mind, but at the last bit he narrowed his eyes, let out a little huff along with an affronted, “Are you saying I’m _not?_ ”

He thought to himself that his vanity was probably getting a little out of hand, if the mere implication that Arthur was out of his league had him so offended.

Because honestly, that was probably true.

“ _No,_ ” Gwaine said, screwing up his face, “Just, Arthur’s handsome in that very… _obvious_ way.”

Merlin snorted. “Horrible save, mate.”

“It wasn’t! I didn’t mean-” Gwaine looked uncharacteristically perturbed, strangely removed from his usual, care-free demeanour. “It’s just… You’re too good for him is what I mean, Merls. You should be with someone nicer.”

Merlin’s lips quirked into a sly smile.

“Well, Gwaine, maybe I don’t want someone nicer. Maybe I just want everyone to stop mollycoddling me, so I can go ask Arthur how he wants me to suck his dick.”

Gwaine’s face split into a cheeky grin at that, made him look much more like himself. He slung his arm around Merlin, dragged him into the party with a, “Well you know Morgana’s gonna be watching you like a hawk, so you might as well forget about it for now and come find a pair who’re just as bad at beer pong as the two of us. Maybe when people start leaving you can sneak upstairs and see if he’s there.”

Merlin let himself be carried into the sea of people, thought that waiting until the end of the party was a good plan, convinced himself to let the matter drop until then.

After a few more rounds of beer pong that were just as embarassing as the first one (it turned out _no-one_ was as bad as Merlin and Gwaine), they gave up on it, instead spent their time having the kind of outrageous, half-witted conversations that people their age tended to have, then proceeded to having terribly silly dance-offs that made them laugh so hard they were very nearly rolling on the floor.

When the evening turned into late night and the party thinned out, Merlin had sobered up quite considerably (if not _entirely_ ), and he saw a window of possibility when Gwen and Morgana were making out in a corner, looking like they were getting rather impatient to go somewhere they could be alone (and wasn’t it so very, very interesting that they were going to Gwen’s and not staying here?).

Merlin hid his heavy winter jacket and the rest of his outerwear, so Morgana might think he’d left already, and stealthily ( _well_ , in an attempt of being stealthy) sneaked towards the staircase. He shouldn’t, however, have underestimated Morgana so badly, and was mewling pathetically as she forcefully dragged him down the stairs, rudely shoved him out the front door and told him to go home while throwing jacket, scarf and boots in his face.

He sulked as he walked off to the bus stop, dragging his feet and making plans to drop by the house tomorrow, late enough for Arthur not to be too affected by (too grumpy because of) the morning and early enough for Morgana to still be at Gwen’s.

︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻⋆︻

The snow crackled and compressed under Merlin’s boots as he sped up, looking over his shoulder at the bus that was just becoming visible down the road. He just had to get a little further, just a few hundred meters and he’d be at the stop before it was too late, before the bus would get there and drive off without him. His body reminded him not-so-gently of his inadequacies at throwing small plastic balls, of the still-somewhat-present consequences thereof, and he fought to keep his running straight, to keep his bleary eyes focused on both the position of the bus and the sparsely-lit path in front of him, which, really, he should’ve known was a losing strategy.

He tripped over something hidden in the snow - or possibly ( _probably_ ) over nothing at all - and tumbled forward, giving a brief, thankful thought to the dampening properties of the white cover before landing headfirst in it. If he’d been just a bit less inebriated he might have had the sense to get right back up again, but as it was the world spun uncomfortably and his face was full of far-too-cold bits of snow, so he sat up, feeling rather dazed as he tried to shove it out of his everywhere, and watched the bus drive right past him.

The thought of just plomping back down for a nice, little self-pity session became quite tempting, but then there was the secondary one that now he’d have to go _back_ , back to where Arthur might still be and Morgana wouldn’t for much longer, and actually maybe he should’ve just gone with the whole missing-the-bus thing in the first place. (Though he had to admit that if Arthur wasn’t there and Morgana wasn’t either, the prospect of waiting alone for two hours outside in this weather was not entirely fantastic, and the plomping-down-in-defeat option might be a nice one after all.)

He pulled himself together, turned back and made his way to the front of the house just in time to call out, “ _Morgana!_ ” before she disappeared into her cab. She turned her head towards him and he ran up to her with an out-of-breath, “ _Missed my bus._ ”

Morgana chuckled and brushed something out of his hair.

“Looks like it. Good thing you didn’t pass out somewhere and froze to death.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said absently, feeling rather anxious to ask, “Could I wait inside? I don’t think the next one is for another two hours.”

A frown crumpled up Morgana’s face (which Merlin suspected was _excellent_ news), and she sighed that, “Yeah. Yeah, you can just go in,” and then, with the frown deepening, “It’s… not locked.”

“Oh, Arthur’s home, is he?”

“Yes… He is,” Morgana admitted reluctantly, not believing Merlin’s weak attempt at disinterest for a second, pointing a finger admonishingly at him with the continuing, “but you’re _not_ to talk to him. You’re to stay downstairs, wait on your own like a good boy and _absolutely_ under _no circumstances_ talk to my horribly evil older brother. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Merlin said with a little mock salute, grinning widely as he walked off to the front door, responding to Morgana’s, “I mean it, Merlin!” with a, “Yep! Stay downstairs, got it!” that he could practically _hear_ her scowling at. He almost thought she might run after him, but then Gwen said something from her seat inside the car, and he turned his head to see Morgana turn away with one last glare and get into it.

He slipped through the heavy door, into the grand foyer where he hung his jacket. Then he made his way to the bathroom, where he tried to make himself look a little less like he’d been very recently falling over his own feet, already hearing the ’ _Honestly_ , Merlin’, already seeing the signature amused smirk (not that he’d actually mind seeing that if he were to be very honest, but he probably would anyways, _without_ the extra encouragement). He ruffled his hair and somewhat managed to go from drowned puppy towards sexily disheveled. Maybe. At least it was a nice, new shirt he was wearing and his jeans were dark and skinny, clung to him in a way that was positively slutty. He looked good, he decided. He could do this.

He left the bathroom and went to the kitchen, where he put on the kettle and got the deep-blue Harry Potter mug he liked from the cupboard (’Of course, _that_ ’d be your favourite, wizard boy’, ’Shut up, Arthur’) along with a tea bag that smelled like caramel. He looked out the window while the water boiled, tried to let the soft light of the stars calm his nerves a bit. He was just gonna go up there and knock, just be casual with a,

“Hey Arthur! Haven’t seen you in so long. How’re you doing?”

The kettle whistled and boiled so he took it off, poured its contents over the tea bag, watched as the water turned a pleasant golden-brown and filled the air with a faint, sweet scent.

“Hi,” he tried again, “Missed my bus and just thought I’d come talk to you, since I’m stuck here anyways. Just see how you were doing.”

Merlin picked up the cup and absent-mindedly pumped the bag, considered how flirty he could pull off being. He smiled slightly to himself, drawled,

“Heeeeey, Arthurrr, I was _all alone_ in this great, _big_ house and thought maybe you’d like to _entertain me_.”

“Entertain you…?”

Merlin jumped and spun around, promptly spilling scalding water all over his hands, the sensation fading entirely and immediately at the sight of _Arthur_ standing in the doorway, looking obnoxiously self-satisfied and completely, fucking glorious. His hair was positively _glowing_ with the light of the hallway behind him, his beautifully sculpted chest wrapped delectably in a crisp, white shirt and _oh_ , don’t even get Merlin started on the area below that because then-

“Merlin, your _hand_ ,” Arthur said impatiently (Merlin replied with a very intelligent, “Wha-?”) and then Arhur’s hands were on Merlin’s, wrestling the cup from him, dragging him to the sink to let icy-cold water onto his burning skin, which admittedly was both a very good idea and very, very pleasant, but drowned entirely in the crackling electricity of the sudden closeness, of having Arthur’s touch after months without seeing him in person.

“Really, Merlin, you’re a danger to yourself, aren’t you? Always so _clumsy_.”

The haughty tone snapped Merlin right out of his daze, launched him automatically into a snarky,

“Well, _maybe_ if you didn’t sneak up on me-”

“I was _hardly_ sneaking up on you.”

Merlin turned his head to look at him, thought that if the playful expression was anything to go by, he rather had been. Thought he rather liked the thought of that.

Arthur let go of his hands and dried his own on a towel. Merlin stood there for a moment more, feeling equal amounts of butterflies and wasps flying about his stomach, feeling how dry his throat was becoming, how his mind was suddenly devoid of things to say, frozen with the charged possibility of the moment. He turned off the tab and took the towel from Arthur with an awkward,

“So, um… So, how’ve you been?”

Arthur smirked (because of course he bloody did) and purred,

“ _What_ , was that the best line then?”

With that, the embarassing nature of the situation finally dawned on Merlin and he felt himself flush a deep, scarlet red, felt a string of panicked, embarassed thoughts start up before he managed to force himself away from the mortification and back into an Arthur-appropriate mindset.

“How long were you watching me, you _creep?_ ”

Arthur picked up the tea ( _Merlin’s_ tea) and took a very small sip, his eyes darkening ever so slightly as his smirk grew ever wider and more superior.

“Long enough, Merlin-” he said, stepping closer and closer until Merlin’s arse was backed against the counter and his heart felt like it was gonna beat right out of his chest, “-to hear, ’Oh _Arthur_ , it’s been _so long_ since I last had the chance to shamelessly drool all over you, may I _please_ get down on my knees and suck your cock now? Please, please, _please?_ ’”

The flush came back to Merlin’s face, this time accompanied by a very overwhelming, very sudden spike in arousal as he was assaulted by the sound of those _filthy,_ mocking words, by the realisation that Arthur’s arms were suddenly on each side of him, trapping him in the tight space between him and the counter.

By the realisation that Arthur had actually put this into _words_ , that they were actually _talking_ about this, and it was just… It was just that they _didn’t_ , that they _never_ did. It had always been Merlin looking and flirting and trying and Arthur playing along or maybe sort of participating and then drawing back at the last moment, leaving Merlin to wonder what that meant, where they stood and how much Arthur actually realised about Merlin’s feelings for him.

But now Arthur was watching him in that way he did sometimes, in the same way he had in precious moments that were tucked carefully away in Merlin’s memory, ones that were over-visited and worn-out from too many nights of imagining Arthur as deadly and hungry and perfect as he looked right now.

Except _right now_ the moment that Merlin had been waiting so long for, the one he’d been dreading like nothing else, now that was suddenly here and he would finally know, would finally have to ask if Arthur wanted him. Ask if he thought he might…

Merlin didn’t do that.

He let his eyes wander down, let them soak up every bit of loveliness displayed before him, let himself wonder faintly if he _could_ just suck Arthur’s cock, if he just asked very, _very_ nicely, if he just said ’You’re right, I want you desperately, please, please, _please_ , will you just _let me?_ ’ and sank down right there, used his mouth to worship Arthur’s prick while its owner panted above him, twisted Merlin’s hair painfully in his broad, perfect hands and pulled-

Merlin snapped out of it, raised his gaze from Arthur’s crotch and forced himself into a deeply unconvincing, entirely dishonest, (utterly cowardly,)

“Oh, _please._ It- it wasn’t like that.”

Arthur took another step forward. Merlin pressed himself harder against the counter, tried not to whimper at how Arthur’s leg started sliding in between his own, how it pushed blissfully, _heavenly_ up against his rapidly hardening erection.

“It was _exactly_ like that.”

Merlin swallowed, stared inanely at Arthur’s too-close, too-perfect, too-pouty lips, imagined how they would feel against his own. Said a half-whispered,

“ _Was not._ ”

“Oh, come now, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur traced his fingers over his cheek, under his jaw, and Merlin closed his eyes to feel every little tingle that danced over his skin. “You’ve never been even _remotely_ subtle about it.”

Merlin forced his eyes open again, forced them to meet Arthur’s, icy-blue and perfectly, pleasantly cool as they always were, forced himself to manage a small,

“You do- _know_ , then?”

Arthur’s smile turned a bit sweet, a bit kind now, as it did sometimes, and he let his thumb gently run over Merlin’s bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he said simply, pushing the tip of his finger into the mouth it was playing with, making Merlin shiver and instinctively close his lips around it to give it a gentle suck.

“Right,” Merlin said, feeling the weight of the thumb as his lips formed the word, feeling the weight of the moment as it settled unyieldingly on him, found that in the end he didn’t manage to articulate that big, all-important question into more than a simple, “ _And?_ ”

A bit of wickedness reemerged in Arthur’s features, and he withdrew his hand, took a step back with a drawled, “ _And…?_ ” knowing full well what Merlin was asking, playing with him like he always had been.

“And- And- Is it-” Merlin stammered, too agitated to participate in that game, “Are you- Do you-”

“-wanna fuck you?”

And that was it. That did it for the last bits of consistent thought activity that had been left in Merlin’s brain, so he just stood there, unbearably aroused and on edge, gaping at Arthur, unable to reach anything he could’ve used to defend himself with.

“Uh, eh, well, I- Do… _do you?_ ”

Arthur took a longer sip, looked profoundly pleased with Merlin’s incoherency, then abruptly stalked away, turned the cup upside-down over the sink, spilling all its contents in a dramatic splash.

“ _Hey!_ ” Merlin said from behind his daze, instinctively aggrieved by the unnecessary waste of perfectly good tea (though he wouldn’t know, actually, since he hadn’t _had any_ ).

Arthur left the kitchen with a bossy, “Come on, Merlin,” and after a brief moment of agitated confusion, Merlin stumbled after him.

Stumbled after as Arthur made his way upstairs via the spiral-staircase and went into his room, where Merlin paused in the doorway, not sure what was happening and whether he was supposed to enter.

It was rather chaotic, the room, which was quite impressive, given that it’d only been inhabited for the one night. The walls, though, were less decorated than they’d been when Arthur lived at home, and it felt a bit empty, a bit not-lived-in, despite all the mess that centered around the suitcase Arthur was starting to put his clothes back into.

“Arthur…?” Merlin tried uncertainly.

“Yes?”

“What’s… What’re you-”

“Packing.”

Even through the fog slowing him, Merlin succeeded in rolling his eyes at that.

“Yes, I can _see that_. But you- you just got here.”

“I did. Yes.”

A pair of pants were picked up from where they were sprawled out on the bed and folded efficiently.

“And now you’re… _leaving?_ ”

Arthur paused for a moment, looked at Merlin with an amused smile and something deeply mischievous in his eyes, something that had Merlin’s insides twisting in on themselves.

“I am.”

Merlin felt incredibly, incredibly confused and at a loss for more advanced ways of putting that or otherwise inquiring into the nature of the situation he just went with,

“I’m very confused,” which made Arthur give a little half-chuckle and say,

“You usually are,” as he started packing again.

Merlin huffed. “ _Arthur_.”

“ _Yes_ , Merlin?”

A fair amount of irritation had settled into him now, and he glared at Arthur, didn’t grace him with an answer. After a little while, after a few more things being neatly arranged, Arthur said,

“You’d like to know _why_ I’m packing?”

and Merlin sighed with increasing exasperation.

“I _would_.”

“Well you see,” Arthur said casually, throwing a shirt into his suitcase and standing up, walking ( _prowling_ ) towards Merlin, who instinctively backed up until he was flush against the wall of the hallway with Arthur looming over him, just as intoxicatingly close as he’d been in the kitchen, an arm on the right side of Merlin.

“If my sister comes home and finds me defiling her dear, sweet Merlin, she’s gonna throw a right strop and skin me alive. And well- I rather like my skin the way it is, covering my body.”

And with that nonsense he walked off and went back to his packing.

Merlin stood there for a moment, then followed to the doorway again, feeling no less lost until Arthur offhand said,

“Also, Leon isn’t home all weekend,”

and Merlin’s overexerted mind finally managed to figure it out.

“You… You wanna bring me to Oxford. To- To…”

“Yep.”

Merlin’s mouth went dry. Arthur zipped his suitcase and walked right past him, going downstairs again. Merlin followed mindlessly.

When they were in the hall, Arthur held up Merlin’s jacket and Merlin automatically put his arms through the sleeves, protesting only slightly with a half-hearted,

“Arthur, you can’t- can’t just…”

but Arthur’s front was pressing lightly up against him, his arms reaching around to close the buttons of his coat, his breath puffing against the back of Merlin’s ear when he whispered,

“ _Can’t I?_ ”

and Merlin shivered, had to concede that,

“I guess you can,” with a tiny, little huff of incredulous laughter. He knew Arthur’s face was full of that obnoxious smirk again, could hear it in his voice when he imperiously said,

“Come on then,” and opened the front door.

Once Merlin had pulled himself together for long enough to get through, Arthur followed, locked it, found his car key and beeped the car open. He threw his suitcase into the trunk and chivalrously opened the passenger door for Merlin who said a vague, “Thank you,” before he settled into the leather seat, trying hard to contain his heart rate and his rapidly increasing sense of arousal. Arthur opened the opposite door and got behind the wheel. Before turning on the motor he turned to Merlin, looking hesitant for the first time of the evening.

“I could also just… drive you home?”

Merlin smiled at him as hazy bewilderment slowly started giving way to dizzying excitement.

“I’d- I’d rather go to Oxford.”

Arthur smiled back, reached out to glide his hand through Merlin’s hair, to trace his lower lip with his thumb again.

“That’s what I thought.”

Merlin laughed, had to get some of the tension out of his body, then called Arthur a,

“ _Presumptous git,_ ” a little more fondly than he’d meant to, which just made said git laugh too before turning on the car, taking them out on the road and away from the house.

Merlin settled back into his seat, turned on the seat warmer and tried very hard to calm down just a tiny, tiny bit, and perhaps attempt to wrap his mind just slightly around the beautiful madness that his life was currently turning into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3
> 
> I'd love to hear what you thought and generally very deeply appreciate both kudos and comments. Feedback is also very welcome!


	2. gleaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little short, so I decided to post it a bit early ^_^ Hope you enjoy it!  
> Also, I decided to change the description, but naturally it's still the same story.

Rows of dark-green, snow-covered pines rushed by as Merlin watched, fiddling idly with his hands, trying to convince himself that this was _real_ , that it was happening and it wasn’t just a very vivid fantasy that he’d gotten himself lost in, or a misunderstanding or a prank or anything else that would force him to wake up and get back to a reality where Arthur didn’t want him, where he wasn’t about to-

_Shit._

_Shit, was he really about to…?_

The languid conversation that usually unfolded between them had been squashed under the heavy pressure, and they’d both been quiet almost since they left, the silence not exactly uncomfortable, just very, distinctively _tense_. After a while, Merlin had to say something, had to reassure himself somehow, so he forced out an unsure,

“So um- So, you really wanna um…”

and watched Arthur’s profile, watched the slight smile that crept unto his features with the easy,

“I’d like to. Yeah.”

“Right,” Merlin said and swallowed, wondering how Arthur could be so pleasantly casual about it, could talk about it like they were going grocery shopping or to one of Arthur’s footie matches.

Arthur turned his head to look at him for a brief moment, eyes clear and calculating, reading him all too easily.

“Nervous?”

“I, um… Yeah… kind of.”

Arthur let out a little “Hm,” and looked back at the road, then went silent for a while more, the wheels in his head turning noisily in the tight confinement of the car.

“I’m not gonna pressure you into anything you don’t want. You know that, right?”

Merlin inadvertently let out a little snort at that, because, _really_ , Arthur could try to be nice all he wanted, but with him there wasn’t gonna be anything Merlin wouldn’t want. There wouldn’t be anything he’d say no to, anything he wouldn’t be ready to _beg_ for, and Arthur had to know that, had to have been counting on it, when he whisked Merlin away for a spontaneous weekend sex-trip without putting any effort into persuading him to come along.

“Yeah. I know that. It’s just that, um-” Merlin felt his face flush a bit as he realised he’d probably have to tell Arthur, realised that he’d probably figure it out on his own if he didn’t. “It’s just that- I haven’t actually- Haven’t really… I’m… I’m-”

“A virgin?”

Merlin blinked, turned his head to look at Arthur again, felt the red colour settle deeper into his cheeks.

“I- uh… Yeah. How… How did you know?”

He was expecting Arthur to look smug, to tease him about it in a light-hearted way that would make him feel more at ease, but instead found him chewing on his lip as a rare expression of guilt started to crinkle his handsome features. He went silent again, those wheels in his head churning more loudly now. Then he blinked the turn signal and pulled the car over, and Merlin only just stopped himself from a desperate, ’No, please, don’t stop, it’s fine, doesn’t matter, just please, _please_ don’t change your mind,’ and forced himself to be silent, to wait for the explanation.

After a too-long while of just looking forward, Arthur cleared his throat, said,

“Look, Merlin… A couple of years ago, Morgana was really cross with me, said she’d tried to set you up with someone, said you wouldn’t even look at him. Said it was because of me. Said if I didn’t stay away from you, you were gonna end up dying without ever having…”

He trailed off with a slightly pained sigh, with his brows frowning together.

“ _Right_ ,” Merlin said tersely, trying for casual and missing by a long shot, cursing Morgana internally, “And what did you- What did you say then?”

A sly smile found Arthur’s face at that and most of the guilt slid right off again (which was really a much more usual interaction than the frowning and the lip-chewing).

“I said you were one of those people that puberty had been incredibly kind to.” He turned his head to look at Merlin. “Said I wouldn’t mind… taking care of that for you.”

There was something dark playing in his eyes now, something wonderfully wicked that made Merlin’s mouth go dry, made him squirm in his seat as he rasped,

“ _Can’t have liked that._ ”

Arthur’s smile grew wide and predatory ( _beautifully_ so) as he said,

“Oh no, she didn’t. She yelled at me, told me to promise not to lay a _finger_ on you.”

“ _And did you?_ Did you- _promise_ …?”

“No,” Arthur said, eyes piercing for a moment more before the darkness wobbled, before his smile faded, and his features were slowly, strangely consumed by guilt again. “No- eh, no not exactly. I only promised I would keep away until…” He sighed, turned his head away, looked out on the road again. “Until you were at least eighteen.”

Merlin stared at him as his mind slowly started putting the pieces together. He mumbled in a very low voice that he, “ _turned eighteen three days ago._ ”

Arthur winced. “Yeah… _Yeah_ , I know, it’s…” He cleared his throat, gripped the wheel a bit tighter than he needed to. “I should- I should really take you home.”

 _He’s fighting with himself,_ Merlin realised. _Trying to convince himself of doing the right thing instead of taking what he wants, and what he wants, what he wants badly enough to make him this conflicted about it, it’s… it’s…_

The thought was intoxicating and wonderful, started pushing Merlin from hesitant insecurity towards a delirious high that spread out on his face in the form of a mad grin, made him say,

“You probably _should_ ,” with every bit of insincerity and taunt that he could muster.

Arthur’s face shifted slightly again, lips going into a straight, hard line, fingers tightening further around the steering wheel until they went white. He said,

“ _Don’t look at me like that,_ ” in a voice that was low, that carried a _warning_ , and oh, _oh_ Merlin was gonna disregard that warning so completely and entirely.

Merlin shifted in his seat, turned fully towards Arthur who was still very pointedly looking straight ahead. He licked his lips, made his voice a sweet mockery of innocence when he lightly said,

“Like what, Arthur?”

and Arthur made a noise that sounded almost like a growl, whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Like you wanna get pushed down on your knees and have that _perfect_ mouth of yours fucked until your throat is _fucking ruined_.”

A slight whimper escaped Merlin at that, but he forced himself to hold Arthur’s gaze, forced himself to say,

“Oh, is that- is _that_ how I look?” almost managing to sound cheeky through his shakiness.

“It’s how you _always_ fucking look Merlin. And it’s fucking _maddening_.”

And with that Arthur turned on the motor again, pulled them back onto the road.

Merlin felt positively dizzy, felt double as nervous as he had before but for somewhat different reasons. He teased Arthur with a cheery,

“Taking me home then?”

and Arthur responded with a snarled,

“ _No._ ”

Merlin turned back to sit properly, nestled into the toasty seat again. He tried not to hyperventilate, thought to himself that whatever battle Arthur was fighting, whatever restraint had been instilled in him by his sister or by the world, he was gonna make sure the right side won, was gonna make sure that that restraint was broken until Arthur was taking and taking and taking, taking everything he wanted, everything Merlin could possibly give him, everything he _needed_ to give him.

Thought to himself that this whole thing was going to be utterly, god damn wonderful and completely, fucking terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And wasn’t it just incredibly lucky that Leon wasn’t home that weekend? And that Arthur happened to be in town _just_ after Merlin turned 18? _So._ _Lucky._ Hehehe.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! ^_^ I'd love to hear what you thought and am always very grateful for both kudos and comments :) Feedback and corrections are welcome and appreciated!


	3. flaring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! <3 Ready to dive into the first smutty chapter of this story? Yes? That’s great!
> 
> Oh btw, before you go in!  
> Is that your sense of decency you’re carrying with you there? Well, that is _very_ pretty, can I just see it for a second? Just a second, I promise, I’ll just-
> 
> *snatches*
> 
> Don’t worry, you’ll get it back after you’re done reading. 
> 
> Now go have fun 😘😁

Darkened forests gave way to wide landscapes of greyscale fields. Then those gave way to gothic buildings of cream-coloured stone, lit by yellow streetlights.

“It’s so pretty here,” Merlin remarked quietly, studying an old college with an intricate, iron gate as it passed him by.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s nice.”

The car turned onto a street of elegant, narrow brick-houses and Arthur mumbled that, “This is it,” and pulled up by one of them, turned to face Merlin with,

“We could go see the town tomorrow.”

He reached out to play with Merlin’s hair again, fingers threading not-entirely-gently through it, as a wicked smile crept unto his face. “If you can still walk by then, that is.”

Merlin grinned, tried to ignore the hot-heavy rush that tumbled down through his buzzing stomach.

“Well… Hopefully not, eh?”

Arthur’s hand tensed in his hair, grabbed it just hard enough to tilt Merlin’s head a tiny bit backwards. He agreed with a low, “Mmh,” eyes gliding lazily, hungrily over Merlin’s features, settling on his lips.

“You really think my mouth is perfect?”

The hunger dissipated and Arthur started smiling, started laughing and let Merlin go.

“ _That’s_ what you focused on? That whole, creepy ruining-your-throat thing, and you focused on the background compliment? _Really,_ Merlin?”

He shook his head and opened the car door with a muttered, “ _Completely incorrigible,_ ” while he stepped outside, walked around to open the passenger side.

Merlin took the hand offered to him, stepped out and shut the door.

When he turned, he found Arthur in his space, searching his face again. “You really don’t need to be nervous though,” he said, sounding earnest, bringing a hand up to stroke Merlin’s cheek in what was probably meant to be a reassuring manner, but mostly served to make Merlin’s heart beat faster. “You don’t need to… _prove_ anything or… _perform_ or anything, just-”

“Just be good and obedient?” Merlin interrupted, lips quirking into a cheeky, little smile, despite the increasing _thump-thump-thump_ thrumming in his ears, “Just let you… _break me in_ , any way you want?”

The gentleness fell off Arthur’s features and his hand slipped under Merlin’s chin to tilt his head back again, eyes narrowing ever so slightly with the almost solemn, thrillingly unnerving,

“Yes _._ _Precisely._ ”

He turned away brusquely, went to the trunk to get his suitcase, locked the car and went to the front door. Merlin swallowed and followed.

The entrance was nice and homey, the house generally much smaller and less assuming than the manor Arthur had grown up in. It was, however, still completely ridiculous considering that he by all rights should be in a _room_ at his college and not in a house at all.

“Why are you living here?” Merlin asked, taking off his coat while Arthur kicked off his shoes and went somewhere with his suitcase.

“ _Because I study here,_ ” Arthur called from the next room.

“Not in _Oxford_ , you berk. Why are you living _here_ , in this _house_ , and not at your college?”

“Oh,” Arthur said, appearing in the door again, stripping out of his jacket and casually, easily looking overwhelmingly, uncomfortably pretty. “Because I’m a spoiled brat, Merlin. Thought you knew that by now.”

Merlin laughed, felt simultaneously easy and nervous, rather naked under Arthur’s gaze as it turned to him, turned a little too calculating.

“Fair point. But I’m pretty sure there are colleges for rich wankers like you. With big, luxurious rooms, perfectly suited for all your bratty needs.”

“Mmh,” Arthur said, in that way he did, stepping closer and closer until Merlin was against the front door, pulse speeding up, wondering vaguely if Arthur had a thing for pushing people up against things. Though actually, scratch that, even without experiencing it three times in a single day, Merlin would’ve been entirely sure that he did.

“But where would I bring pretty little things like you then?” He leant into Merlin’s neck, purred the next bit right into his ear, lips brushing against the shell. “ _When I needed some privacy to ravage them?_ ”

A soft kiss brushed against the skin just under the ear, and then Arthur’s broad hands were sweeping slowly up over his stomach, warmth seeping through the rough fabric of his shirt, making Merlin dizzy and way more aroused than what was reasonably from a simple touch like that. When they reached his shoulders, they started sweeping down over his back, travelling towards his arse while Arthur stepped closer, pressed his body against Merlin’s with one thigh up against his crotch. Merlin whimpered, felt the way the cool door against his back contrasted the heat at his front, and then, more or less consciously, let his head fall to the side to give Arthur access to his neck. Arthur chuckled against it, trailed his lips up over the skin, then dragged his teeth down hard, leaving a burning trail that sent a shiver through Merlin, one that stayed in his body, resonated with the part of his mind that hadn’t been able to keep up with what was going on, was still entirely too overwhelmed to ground itself in everything that was happening.

Merlin forced himself into coherency, breathlessly said,

“Oh well, I- I expect they have rooms especially for that. Dungeons probably, full of needy, willing virgins just waiting to be ravaged by unfairly handsome, deeply overpriviliged upper class prats like yourself.”

Arthur chuckled, started laughing with his face pressed into Merlin’s neck, then brought it backwards to look at him.

“Fuck, Merlin, I missed you. You say the most _ridiculous_ things, do you know?”

Merlin smiled, felt heat blossom in his stomach, felt something urgent and desperate drawing him into the azure of the eyes locked with his.

“I try, Arthur. I try.”

“Mmh,” Arthur said again, leaning forward for a moment to _almost_ brush his lips against Merlin’s, making Merlin’s breath hitch, making time stand still probably, as he was suddenly millimeters from something he had wanted for so, _so_ long, something that he could get, _would_ get if Arthur would just come a little closer, if he would just-

Arthur withdrew and stalked off, leaving Merlin bereft and empty with the sudden distance between them.

He stood there frozen for a moment, then frantically put his parts back together, forced his feet to move, following through the living room, into the kitchen, where Arthur was uncorking a bottle of red wine and pouring two glasses, one of which he pressed into Merlin’s hand.

“So…” Merlin said, smiling slightly, taking a quick sip while he kicked his brain hard and mean, not having time for the kind of nervous flailing it was trying to do, “This for making me all _pliant_ and _willing_ for you?”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur said sweetly, entirely falsely so, “I don’t need to work on that when it’s you. _This-_ ” He grabbed the stem and turned it upwards, forcing Merlin to start drinking at a steady pace that would have him downing the glass in a couple of seconds. “-is for making you relax so it’ll be easier to pound that pretty, little arse of yours without damaging it.”

Merlin choked on his wine. Arthur laughed and let go, beaming unapologetically while Merlin sputtered an indignant, “ _God_ , Arthur,” and coughed, swiping his lips to keep the colourful liquid from dripping down and ruining his shirt.

Arthur leant in then, carefully licked the wine from the edge of Merlin’s jawline up to his mouth, his tongue so warm, so wet, so ridicously arousing when it briefly touched the corners of it. Then he grasped Merlin’s hands, sucked it off his fingers (and if his tongue had been bad, his mouth was an absolute _inferno_ of slick heat, full of ideas of what else it might envelop), and hollowed his cheeks pornographically around them, eyes dancing with mirth at Merlin’s glass-eyed expression. He pulled off of the last one with a lewd slurp, said, “Come on, Merlin,” and dragged him by the wrist out of the kitchen, making Merlin stumble after, thinking he was unlikely to survive a whole night (or was it an entire, fucking _weekend?_ ) of Arthur toying with him like this.

In the living room Arthur plopped into a heavy leather armchair, looked up at Merlin with a lazy,

“Strip,” and prodded him lightly with a foot.

Merlin internally slapped himself out of his daze, pointedly rolled his eyes.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Come now, Merlin. You were gonna be _good_ and _obedient_ , were you not?”

Merlin snorted at that, meant to say something witty, but then found himself standing alone on the floor, uncomfortably exposed with Arthur’s eyes on him, nervous without his heat, without his hands to take charge. He paused for a second, giving his bottom lip a nervous lick, trying to find the right words, something to move the situation along, but then… fuck this. _Fuck this_ , he thought quite firmly as he started chucking off his pants, stepping out of them and his socks too. _Fuck Arthur_ if he thought he was gonna rattle him and he was gonna stand there and blush for him like a fucking…

A low growl escaped Merlin and he jumped onto the chair, straddling Arthur rather forcefully, which just made Arthur smile beatifically, looking entirely too pleased with the situation, as he grasped the top button of Merlin’s shirt to open it. Merlin slapped his hands away.

“ _No_. You wanted me to _strip_ , didn’t you? _So,_ I’m _stripping_.” He started opening his shirt, stubbornly slow, glowering at Arthur.

Arthur, however, remained entirely unperturbed, just started caressing the inside of Merlin’s thighs, which very quickly, all too easily melted the irritation away and pulled Merlin right back into the blur of ’oh-god-he’s-touching-me’ that he’d just managed to get a tiny break from. When the final button came undone, Merlin slowly, _slowly_ pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Arthur’s hands swept up and explored the expanse of pale, newly revealed skin, stopped at the nipples to twist them slightly.

“ _Fucking gorgeous, Merlin,_ ” he said in a low voice, pushing Merlin’s hands behind his back, which Merlin would’ve complained about, if he hadn’t been entirely side-tracked by the compliment, the one that made him smile sweetly, say,

“You really think so?”

“Yeah.” Arthur returned his smile. “But then, a lot of people think so. You know that, don’t you? Did you think I wasn’t one of them?”

“Hmm,” Merlin said, trying for casual but grinning like an idiot, feeling intensely happy and more than a little relieved. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you were straight. Or that maybe you were just too pretty for me. Gwaine thinks you’re out of my league.”

“Only dull people are straight, Merlin. As for Gwaine, he’s an idiot and a lying bastard who’d give his right arm to have you.”

“Gwaine? _Really?_ ”

Arthur dragged his nails over Merlin’s chest, langorously taking in his body, feeling the dips and curves of him, the fairly well-defined, rather lean muscle.

“Mmh. You should see the way he looks at you.”

Merlin gave up on keeping his arms behind his back, threaded them fondly though shiny, golden hair instead.

“How’s that, Arthur…? Is it the same way I look at you?”

Arthur smiled, caught somewhere between soft and self-satisfied. “No… No, no-one looks at _anyone_ the way you look at me.”

And there was that intense heat again, curling up from Merlin’s stomach, pervading his whole system until he was a bit breathless, a bit too emotional, and leant in to rest his forehead against Arthur’s, feeling his heart crack a bit, in sort of a good way, felt it leaking pulses of warm, aching affection into his chest.

“Have you…” He sighed, gave himself a moment to steady his voice. “Have you… _always_ known?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said again, running his hands over Merlin’s back, motion somewhat soothing, somewhat comforting. “Been a lot harder to ignore it lately. Not that I ever wanted to, mind you, just- It’s been more… distracting, have been wanting to…”

Merlin drew in a shuddering breath, exhaled a wavering,

“… _fuck me?_ ”

“Mmh.”

Merlin sat back, ran his hands over Arthur’s shoulders, down over his bulky arms, trying to get his breathing to even out, to contain the quivering that kept moving through his body.

“Well you can, you know,” he said, fingers dancing at the top of Arthur’s shirt, nervous grin playing on his face.

“I _do_ know,” Arthur said, smirking again, tensing his arms around Merlin’s back, somehow managing to stand up with Merlin curled around him. “And I very much intend to.”

He walked through the room, holding Merlin with one arm, used the other for a door handle and then Merlin was being carried into Arthur’s bedroom, which _had_ to be something he was imagining, _had_ to be a thing out of his overactive imagination.

When, however, he was thrown very, _very_ carelessly on the bed, only just keeping himself from bouncing chaotically off it unto the floor, he had to concede that, no alright, it was entirely real, it was more Arthur than he could ever have made it in a fantasy. It was especially so when Arthur turned away without even looking at him or gracing Merlin’s disgruntled protest with any kind of apology, instead rummaged through a couple of drawers before exclaiming a delighted, “Ah, there it is!” and returning with crimson-coloured _rope_ in his hands.

“You _can’t_ be serious.”

Arthur smiled again, haughty and arrogant as ever. _Infinitely_ prattish.

“Oh, I’m entirely serious, Merlin. I assure you.”

He pounced forward, grabbed Merlin’s right wrist and started tying it to the bedpost. Then some sort of reason seemed to find him and he paused for a moment, said a slightly hesitant,

“Unless… you don’t want me to?”

Merlin just rolled his eyes again.

“Just stop pretending you think I might say no.”

Arthur snickered. Snickered shamelessly and deftly finished tying the right wrist, then did the left one.

“How’s that? Too loose? Too tight?”

Merlin testingly pulled on the rope and suddenly, instinctively understood the consequences of it. He was trapped, helpless, he was _screwed_ is what he was, in the figurative sense and the literal one, in any sense, really, and oh if that wasn’t way more exciting than it should’ve been, if that didn’t go straight to his cock and make him let out a pathetic, little whimper before he managed to stop it.

“No, it’s- _good_. Feels good.”

“Does it?” Arthur said, lips curling up with a bit of amusement again, the rest of his features dragged down by something heavier, something hungrier that stopped the smile from reaching his eyes.

Merlin didn’t back down, forced his words to be steady when he answered, “Yeah. It does.”

“Hmm,” Arthur said and shuffled down, hooking his fingers under the edge of Merlin’s boxers and pulling them down to reveal his cock, lean and long and uncomfortably hard as it was.

It hit Merlin then how very, very _naked_ he was, how he wasn’t made any less so by the deep-red bonds over his wrists, the way they forced his body to remain stretched out in complete exposure. How he especially wasn’t by the way Arthur, still fully clothed, was _staring_ at him, at his body, like he was learning every curve, every plane of it, deciding on what region to conquer first.

“ _Gorgeous,_ ” Arthur muttered, bending down to mouth at the v-shape leading to Merlin’s groin, trailing a tongue into the slanted lines of it. “ _Completely, fucking gorgeous._ ” He looked up, found Merlin’s eyes. “And only ever mine.”

There was a tug at those words, a pull at Merlin’s core, the same one that had always turned his head towards Arthur, but felt unbearably strong now that it was Arthur himself who wielded it, now that it wasn’t just Merlin gawking helplessly, but Arthur right there, staring back at him.

“Oh, I am, am I?” he said shakily, never one to concede already-lost battles, not when it came to this.

The challenge wasn’t well received. It pulled at Arthur’s expression, drew it into thin, dangerous lines.

“ _Yes,_ Merlin,” he said, firm and menacing, crawling back up, sinking his head into Merlin’s neck. His teeth pulled slightly at Merlin’s earlobe for a moment, then he whispered for Merlin to, “ _Spread your legs,_ ” and Merlin did almost automatically, feeling his cock twitch at the command. He took advantage of the close proximity to press a careful kiss into Arthur’s neck, getting just a slight taste of the warm, smooth skin there. Then he felt Arthur shift to have his own legs inside Merlin’s, saw a glance of a hand moving to the bedside table for a moment and then-

 _Oh_.

Then a finger, slick and warm, pressing against his entrance, demanding entry as it circled over his rim, stimulating a thousand over-sensitive nerve endings, sparked them into action until they were threatening to fry every single cell in his brain. Merlin took a deep breath, tried hard to relax against the way he felt like he was being torn right open, body and heart and everything laid out like an offering, one that Arthur was greedily claiming as his voice trickled into his ear so molten and sweet, so enticing and entirely hypnotising with its,

“ _You always were. Were always looking at me, always wanting, always yearning. Always too obsessed with the idea to consider anyone else._ ” The finger pressed in and Merlin moaned, pressed his head backwards into the mattress, as he felt waves of pleasure crash over him from the tight intrusion. “And now I get to have it all, get to- What was it you said? _Break you in._ Any way I want.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Merlin gasped breathlessly, mindlessly, wanting very, very badly to be broken in any way Arthur could think to do it, any way he would want to.

“Yes,” Arthur parrotted, still firm, still tempting, but not quite able to hide how his own voice was going a bit hoarse, a bit breathy as he pushed further in, gently started pumping his finger.

Merlin let out a stuttering exhale, reveled in the startling, wonderful sensation of that movement, that slightly burning stretch, the sense of having Arthur’s body, perfect and warm, hovering just above him. He felt Arthur’s teeth move from his ear to his shoulder, felt them sink deeper into his skin, the pain that emerged there, the intense way it contrasted the pleasure below.

A loud groan rumbled through him and he couldn’t help tensing up, couldn’t help the, “ _Fuck_ , Arthur, I’m not- Might not- _last_ that long.”

The biting stopped and Arthur’s eyes were there again, piercing and commandeering, making their way deep into Merlin’s mind while his finger breached his body.

“You don’t need to, love. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

The words were almost uncomfortably soft in their contrast to Arthur’s gaze, to his actions, to his _voice_ even, and the term of endearment rang through Merlin’s ears, made his heart throb painfully, wonderfully with the sweet sound, the sheer, endless possibility of it.

“You’re really- really gonna keep me here all weekend?”

Arthur kissed the corner of his mouth, travelled down to his ear again.

“Gonna keep you here till you’re so fucked out, you’ve forgotten your own name and your voice is broken from screaming mine.”

Merlin laughed, had to, despite how he was panting, despite the jolt he felt from Arthur whispering ridiculous filth like that into his ear.

“Quite the line, that one.”

Arthur snorted, sarcastically said “Thank you,” and then twisted his finger in some wicked way that had Merlin gasping as an overpowering bolt of electricity shot up through his spine.

“ _Shit,_ ” he mumbled, panted, and reached out to touch Arthur, to drag him down into a kiss, except he didn’t, _couldn’t_ , because those _stupid_ ropes were blocking his movement, and so he just pulled ineffectually on them, endlessly frustrated while Arthur watched him, said an amused,

“Ah… So close and yet so far, eh Merlin?”

“ _Fuck. You_ ,” Merlin hissed and doubled the effort, knowing full well Arthur would untie him if he would just ask for it.

“Mmh,” Arthur said lazily, “Fuck me, indeed,” and then he withdrew his finger for a moment, only to return it with another, the stretch of them so overwhelmingly good that Merlin went crazy with it, lost whatever grounding he’d had, the sensation so much, too much, _not at all enough_.

“ _Arthur_ ,” he said desperately, “I need, Arthur, I _need-_ ”

“I know. I know, Merlin, just-”

“But I can’t- _Please_ , I _can’t_ -”

“Shh, Merlin, calm down.” Arthur cupped his face, caught Merlin’s frantic eyes with his own. “You’ll have everything you want. Everything you need. But you need to slow down, be patient for me. Can you do that?”

“I-” Merlin’s frenzy stilled in the oceans of blue before him. “Yes,” he said quietly, suddenly sure he could do anything if Arthur would only ask like that, with his eyes so calm and beautiful, his voice so steady and certain.

“Good.” Arthur placed a kiss on his forehead, muttered, “So good for me, Merlin,” and testingly scissored his fingers for a moment before he started moving them in earnest, working Merlin mercilessly towards his orgasm, hitting his prostate on every damn thrust of them.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Merlin panted, closing his eyes to cut back on the stimulation only to feel Arthur shift down and start licking his right nipple, sucking it into his mouth and then biting down hard on it. The pain of it was so perfect and so sharp, and when he simultaneously felt Arthur’s tongue brush over the top of it, it was absolutely the final straw and he groaned, shuddered, started coming all over his stomach. He opened his eyes to see Arthur watching him attentively as pleasure cascaded over him, to see him studying his face like he was carefully cataloguing every reaction, every movement across it. Which to be fair was probably exactly what he was doing, but was also entirely unhelpful, only served to strengthen Merlin’s orgasm, hard and unrelenting as it was, almost a bit uncomfortable from how his cock was still so woefully understimulated, had been forced into this by the onslaught of sensation from the rest of his body.

As his climax slowly ebbed out, the fingers slowed down with it, were drawn out carefully, wiped clean on Arthur’s come-soaked shirt, before he tucked it up over his head and carelessly threw it away. And _oh_. Oh, that made Merlin tug on his ropes again, despite his post-orgasmic wooziness, which in turn made Arthur smile again, except it wasn’t quite the same as before, wasn’t quite as superior, had some kind of… something more serene, something almost _reverent_ to it.

Arthur brushed some hair out of Merlin’s face, looked at him in a way that made Merlin’s heart skip a beat, and mumbled,

“So good for me. So pretty. Christ Merlin, you look so pretty when you… I’m never gonna let-”

Then there was a sigh, a kiss to Merlin’s forehead, one on his nose, almost one against his lips, and Merlin chased hungrily after that one, was held back by those _ropes_ again and _really_ , Merlin was starting to have a serious issue with those.

“Gonna let me go? Now that you’ve had your wicked way with me and all that.”

And alright, ok, Merlin had asked for the smirk this time.

“Haven’t had it yet, have I?”

 _And_ that was a no then. Merlin sighed, considered asking to be let out in earnest, then remembered that he was a complete sucker for the smug, beautiful bastard above him and instead laid back in resignation.

“Fine. Keep me locked up here all night then. Pervert.”

The way Arthur raised his eyebrows at that carried an eerie similarity to someone who was thinking ’Why, yes, that’s exactly what I was planning on,’ and Merlin whined, pouted, said,

“Oh, _really?_ ” which he subsequently wished he hadn’t because suddenly Arthur looked all serious, playful attitude crumbling, brows frowning together. He looked serious and… he looked _guilty_ , which was just as weird and uncomfortable as it had been in the car, didn’t get any better when he said,

“No, I… I can let you out if you want, Merlin. It doesn’t have to be like this, we can- I don’t have to be… I’m sorry.”

 _Really,_ he was the most fickle person Merlin had ever met.

“Why are you- Don’t… Don’t be sorry. Why would you be sorry?”

“Because I’m- I’m doing this all… I want you all…”

“Arthur-”

“ _No_ , I do. I want you in the wrong way, want… too much, want you too… I just… want you all- I _want_ all-”

He paused, then sighed out,

“ _wrong_.”

Merlin’s stomach clenched at the expression on his face.

“Arthur, that’s not-” he started, paused for a moment as he changed his mind, went with, “I… I like this. Like… the way you want. Like- _you_ like this.”

Arthur paused for a moment, searching his face, then left abruptly, was gone from the room for a minute, before he came back with a small towel and straddled Merlin to carefully wipe down his stomach, the fabric soft and warm and damp against his skin. Then he leant down, _licked_ the remaining drops of white off, which was entirely too arousing to be happening so soon after Merlin’s release, didn’t get any better when he moved his tongue to Merlin’s very confused cock that sent distressed signals to his brain and made an involuntarily, uncomfortable attempt at getting back to hardness. It especially didn’t get better when Arthur wrapped his lips around the _head_ and Merlin yelped, said,

“ _God_ , Arthur I just- just _came_ , it’s too- You _can’t_ , it’s not- _ready_.”

Arthur looked up at him with a slightly dazed, slightly puzzled look on his face.

“Oh… Sorry,” he said, and crawled up until he was looking Merlin in the eyes again. “I, um- I… thank you, Merlin, that was… that was a very sweet thing to say.”

His lips curled up in one side as a bit of teasing returned to his face with the, “I like you like this too,” and he kissed Merlin on the nose again.

That _could_ have been a sweet thing to say as well, would’ve been a great deal sweeter if the ’like this’ didn’t currently mean ’tied up and helpless’, but there was something genuinely grateful in Arthur’s eye, something that made Merlin warm, so he graciously let it go, accepted the thank-you.

Arthur held his gaze for a moment more, then he was shuffling out of the bed, draping the duvet over Merlin, saying that he was, “just gonna go to the living room for a little while,” and then, with a wide grin spreading on his face that, “You can just come out and join me if you want.”

He was out the door before Merlin had the chance to shout anything like, ’No, Arthur, you _complete bastard_ , don’t you fucking _dare!_ ’ and then Merlin was tragically alone, tragically completely unable to join Arthur in the living room or absolutely anywhere that wasn’t on this exact spot where he was still tied up quite skillfully and decisively.

“I fucking hate you,” he mumbled pointlessly to the room and sighed, thankful that he at least had quite a bit of length to his restraints and could rest his shoulders and wrists completely against the mattress. That the ties around his wrists weren’t really tight, only just enough to make sure he couldn’t slip out of them.

Only _just_ enough to make sure he couldn’t, and _oh_ , oh then the conspirational part of his mind was suddenly active and oh _shit_ , it wasn’t just Arthur being home that specific weekend, not just the driving Merlin here, was it? It was the wine and the ropes and the specific way they were tied, the not-touching-his-dick, the _not-kissing-him_ , the leaving-to-the-living-room and _everything_ , everything except for the god damn, out-of-nowhere guilt trips that were suddenly starting to make a great deal of sense. It was one long power demonstration is what it was, one very well-thought-out, highly detailed plan for how to take someone’s virginity when you know they’ll give you everything and you’ve had _years_ to plan it.

 _Fuck_.

Arthur had wanted him for years. Had _fantasised_ about _him_. For _years_.

And Merlin really was such a pathetic _idiot_ , because _that_ was ultimately his take away from the whole thing and all he could do was grin to himself, laugh slightly with the wonderful, wicked depravity of it all, immediately starting to plan how he was gonna sabotage Arthur’s plans, so he wouldn’t be tied up all night, tortured with pleasure until he was crying and begging for Arthur to just fuck him already.

Not that the appeal of that plan was… _entirely_ lost on him, but Merlin had a very strong principle on spoiling Arthur’s schemes whenever he hadn’t been included in the makings of them, and he told himself quite adamantly that this wouldn’t be the exception.

Bits of dialogue, taunts and cheek started appearing in his mind and he laughed to himself whenever he thought of something especially mischievous to say, felt himself go halfway back to hardness whenever he thought of an especially evil response from Arthur, whenever he imagined that tightly contained hunger break out of its prison and paint his face stormy with want. Soon, strategy melted into fantasy and gradually that fantasy got less coherent, as Merlin’s tired body grew heavy, started dragging his mind into a rest it hadn’t been able to find on its own, and he murmured,

“Oh, that’s what he wanted, I’m meant to… to-”

Then his eyes fell shut and he was gone in sleep, shakiness dissipating, overworked mind resting, the parts of it that hadn’t been able to keep up slowly repairing themselves, leaving him warm and pliant and relaxed. Warm and pliant and perfectly tranquillised for anyone who might have designs on his virtue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear: This isn’t leading to somnophilia, Merlin will be conscious when Arthur continues with his wicked plans (well when he tries to, we’ll see what happens now that Merlin's aware of them ;) ).
> 
> Oh, and _here_ , here’s your sense of decency back. If it’s angry and wants you to have words with Arthur, you can go vent at him in the comments, they’re right down there ⬇️ 
> 
> On a more serious note: Thank you so much for reading! Besides from any outrage you may or may not have, I really appreciate any kinds of comments, they're so, so motivating, and kudos are really lovely as well ^_^
> 
> Have a nice evening! <3


	4. burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNINGS!** _(for those who want them, otherwise you can skip to my rambling underneath)_  
>  Sooo this chapter is eh… Well it’s a filthy, lovely little thing, and if I was a nicer person maybe I’d feel a bit guilty for writing it. I don’t though, hehe, but I should tell you, things get a little wild and there’ll be a little choking and some… fear play, I guess? So if Arthur being super menacing and Merlin being delightfully terrified of him makes you feel uncomfortable (in a bad way :P) you might not wanna read the chapter. 
> 
> **INTRODUCTORY RAMBLING**  
>  Hiiii guuuys :D I finally finished chapter four!! I’ve been looking so much forward to sharing it with you and I really hope you enjoy it. Personally I had to hide under a minor collection of pillows while editing it, but maybe you’re more chill than me, who knows :P

Merlin was warm. Warm, fuzzy, _cosy_ , the feeling wound snugly around him, wrapping his mind in a comfortable haze. There was a soft brush against his skin, up over his arm and his heavy eyelids lifted slowly as a soft, “ _Mmmh_ ,” left his throat.

His vision sluggishly started back up, found a soft focus to reveal locks of blond hair shining in the dim glow of a bedside lamp, to reveal a solid, clean-shaved jawline and full, coral lips that were currently lifted in a small, fond smile.

“Hey,” Arthur murmured.

And Merlin got warmer.

A white, thin shirt was wrapped around Arthur’s shoulders, buttons left unopened to reveal his stomach in all its tight, smooth glory. The tip of a finger ran over Merlin’s wrist, under the rope that bound it, then Arthur pressed two fingers into the palm, told Merlin to,

“Squeeze,” and Merlin did.

Arthur nodded, did the same with the other hand and mumbled, “Good,” apparently satisfied that neither of them were about to fall off anytime soon.

He slid out of his shirt, shucked off his pants and then Merlin had a moment to catalogue stunning planes of bulging muscle and gold-tanned skin - grateful for the remaining sleep as it shielded him from the worst rush of arousal - before Arthur was lifting up the duvet slightly, making Merlin shiver, first with the cold air that snaked in, then with the extensive skin-to-skin contact as he crawled under, slipping his own legs between Merlin’s, bracing himself with an arm on each side of his head.

“Hey,” he said again, smiling a bit wider now.

“Hey,” Merlin replied in a rough voice, drowsily smiling back, feeling his arousal stir under Arthur’s weight, under the delectable press of his body, felt his mind trying to claw its way back to sharpness and deal with how close Arthur was, how _naked_ he suddenly was.

One of Arthur’s hands touched lightly on Merlin’s cheek, went down to his shoulder and travelled up over his arm, passing the rope to brush against his fingers.

“You’re lovely like this.”

There was a little flutter in Merlin’s stomach, a quirk to one side of his smile when he said,

“Tied up in your bed?”

“Mmh,” Arthur murmured, rolling his hips languidly into Merlin who let out a moan from the immediate pleasure of it, from the dizzying feeling of Arthur’s filling cock pressing against him. He wondered hazily, hopefully, if he’d been wrong and Arthur didn’t actually have any plans to tease him, or if maybe Arthur had simply changed his mind, had decided that he didn’t want to wait and was just gonna take him then and there. The idea of it was almost as lovely as it was daunting, but was made a great deal less daunting by how Merlin was almost entirely sure that it was utterly wrong.

Still, a man could hope, and he wrapped his legs around Arthur’s hips, tilted his own up to make the movement more suggestive, pulled with his legs to press them together.

“And warm. And pliant. And _sweet_ ,” Arthur continued, going down on his elbows to breathe deeply into Merlin’s neck, press soft kisses into it, then did a bit of shuffling to slide off his boxers before he did another roll of his hips, making the bared length of his cock press against Merlin’s perineum, almost gracing his hole, and it was _surreal_ having so much of him so close so after so long, after so much _wanting_.

Merlin groaned, low and heavy, felt that simmer of arousal turn into a slow boil and blurted out a slurred, “ _Fuck me,_ ” that might’ve been in one sense or the other, but was either way very likely to be a horribly stupid thing to say. In response, Arthur chuckled into his neck, then shifted down, trailing kisses over the side of Merlin’s throat, sideways over a collarbone, down to a nipple, which he started licking as he had earlier.

Thoughts of strategy gradually started reappearing in Merlin’s mind, but were heavily blurred with the remnants of sleep, were muddled much further by the shared warmth, the searing contact with Arthur’s body, the wet movement of his tongue. Merlin squirmed, bit back the needy moans that were pressing against his lips, told himself that whatever nefarious, torturous plans Arthur (probably) had, he meant to _ruin_ them, not encourage them.

It was hard though, got increasingly harder when Arthur went further downwards, dragging the blanket down with him, trailing that blazing-hot mouth over Merlin’s stomach, hands finding the insides of his thighs and almost, _almost_ grazing his balls when they started stroking upwards. Merlin spread his legs further, not because he wasn’t increasingly sure that Arthur was gonna use the access to very slowly murder him, just because… _well_ , he wasn’t entirely sure to be honest, thought it might be some instinctual, involuntary reaction to the man.

Arthur’s mouth continued its way down, took way, _way_ longer than what was _remotely_ reasonable with its path over Merlin’s groin, excluding Merlin’s cock in a manner that was very precise and most certainly deliberate, and _alright_ , okay, there was no way Arthur was going to be remotely merciful about this. When he got down to the inner thighs, he started doing little nips and bites that Merlin couldn’t help making high-pitched whines at, and Arthur smiled against his skin, looked unbearably smug as he meticulously marked every little section he could reach. After far too much of that, far too much pathetic whimpering on Merlin’s part, Arthur started shifting his attention where Merlin wanted it, brought his head up to hover just over Merlin’s prick, let his fingertips skim over the top of Merlin’s thighs before he did the world’s smallest, little kitten lick to the length in front of him.

If Merlin’s hands had been free, he liked to think he would have just grabbed Arthur by the hair and pushed his face into the damn thing to stop him from being such a wicked tease about it. As it was, he was just lying there, fighting to force some kind of clarity upon his mind, trying to snap himself out of his helplessness or maybe just try to enjoy it a little bit less. Then, when Arthur carefully grabbed the base and tilted Merlin’s cock upwards, when he let his tongue trail up from the base until it was doing one, excruciatingly slow lick over the slit, there was a tiny, little _snap_ somewhere in Merlin’s mind, and before he could stop it he heard himself say a pitiful little,

“ _Arthur_.”

Arthur raised his head, flashed him a wide, stomach-flipping grin and looked incredibly obnoxious even for his standards (which was impossibly obnoxious on the scale of ordinary people) as he drawled,

“ _Yes_ , Merlin?”

Merlin bit his lip, tried and failed to stop himself from asking an incredibly ill-advised,

“If I… If I just say _please_ … Will you ple- Will you just- _fuck me?_ ”

Arthur _laughed_ (the fucking _arsehole_ ) loud and delighted, and then, without answering, without any show of pity whatsoever, pushed Merlin’s legs further apart, started nosing, licking, kissing along the inside of them, all the way down to the ankles before going back up in the same, diligent manner. When he had finished with that, he put his hands under Merlin’s knees and pushed up, folding him together, exposing him, grabbed the little bottle of lube on the bedside table with one hand, held one of the knees with the other, and started _dribbling_ just under Merlin’s balls, because he was actually, _actually_ evil. Merlin whined, loud and pathetic, as he felt the cold, sticky liquid slowly moving, slowly, _slowly_ gliding over his skin, travelling down until it was going over his hole.

Arthur started dragging his finger through the same path, moved even slower than the lube had, trailed down not to move actually onto (or _into_ ) Merlin’s hole, but to tease _just_ on the side of it. Once he had passed it, he changed direction, trailed that same path upwards, made the distance just a tiny bit smaller than before, and kept doing that, kept going up and down, going closer and closer until he was lightly skimming Merlin’s rim, and Merlin’s frustration was building up steadily, becoming louder and louder in his mind, telling him to do _something_ , _anything_ , that would make Arthur stop this nonsense and give him some real pleasure.

When Arthur started passing right over it, when he started doing slight pauses to _dip_ just the _tiniest_ bit of his fingertip inside, that frustration was screaming, yelling, assaulting Merlin’s resolve until there was another _snap_ , a louder one this time, accompanied by another whiny, horribly undignified,

“ _Arthur_.”

“Mmh,” Arthur replied, not actually bothering to shift his attention from the torment he was very deeply focused on inflicting.

“You won’t, will you? Won’t _fuck me_ until I’m out of my bloody… _mind_ ,” Merlin concluded aimlessly, voice wobbling a bit, needing to say something, do _something_ to distract himself from Arthur’s finger trailing over him, around him, only-very-slightly into him, “But you’ll make me… make me beg for it anyways?”

Arthur looked up for a moment, entirely unaffected by Merlin’s tone, or - if anything - appearing rather ravenous with the sound of desperation. Then he pounced upwards so he was suddenly in Merlin’s face again, purring,

“I don’t know, Merlin,” his dark eyes glowing dangerously, “Will I?”

And Merlin almost surrendered to it, almost lost himself to the undercurrent in that gaze, dragging him down, making him want to give up, let go, be reduced to a sobbing, pleading mess for him. He bit his lip again, mostly to keep any ill-advised words from slipping out, but it turned out to be a mistake when Arthur’s focus shifted and a grim smile played on his mouth.

He lowered himself down, let his own lips graze Merlin’s, so that Merlin could _feel_ the heat of them, could feel his breath as it moved soft and sweet over his own, and he didn’t dare to move, knew he’d lose that nearness as soon as he did. Arthur pressed in a millimeter, tilted his head slightly to let Merlin feel a slow, sideways _drag_ between their lips and with that, Merlin’s control slipped from his fingers and he chased up to get the kiss that he wanted so badly, so very _, very_ badly, had wanted for _years_ , and naturally didn’t get at all because Arthur very predictably pulled away, his evil smile going wider and more wicked.

“Riight on the-” Arthur drawled, lowering himself a tiny bit back down, “- _tip_ of your tongue now. _Isn’t it?_ ”

“No,” Merlin said, breathlessly, unimpressively, and Arthur chuckled, whispered,

“ _Liar,_ ” before he let his tongue trail over the lining of Merlin’s bottom lip then his upper one, made Merlin whimper pathetically as he felt the last bit of resistance melt away and a small, capitulating,

“ _Please,_ ” forced its way out of him.

Arthur didn’t even have the decency to be smug about it, just looked immensely satisfied and entirely unsurprised with the surrender. He brushed Merlin’s hair away from his face, said a firm, shameless,

“Again,” that Merlin only just managed to stop himself from making an affronted huff at, instead used to finally force his mind into a bit of strategy (into what was essentially plan D or E, if he were to be completely honest, but was the only thing that felt remotely feasible at this point). He let his voice be unsteady, let himself say another,

“ _Please_ ,” and then, when Arthur started nuzzling into his neck, chuckling happily to himself with the too-easy victory, he added a soft, “ _Sir._ ”

Arthur froze.

He drew back, looked at Merlin with a curious expression in his eyes, but was squinting them a little like he was getting a bit suspicious already.

“ _Sir…?_ ” he said sceptically, rolling the word around his mouth, tasting it.

“Do you like it?” Merlin said, making his tone unsure, his eyes wide. “I figured with all this-” He waggled his hands a bit. “I- I figured you would.”

A bit of amusement found Arthur’s features and he opened his mouth to say something, but Merlin spoke again before he had the chance to foil his tactic.

“But if you-” He chewed on his bottom lip, let himself slip into something slightly overdramatic. “If you don’t… I could- I could call you something else? Like, um… Like… _master?_ ”

Amusement bloomed into a full smile, but Merlin didn’t miss the spark in Arthur’s eyes, the hunger that was waking there, despite whatever efforts he was doubtlessly making to keep it down. And when he tried to stop him with a reprimanding,

“ _Mer_ lin-”

Merlin interrupted again, said,

“Please. _Master,_ ” making the title audibly sarcastic now, thinking a bit of provocation would mix well with the tease of submissiveness. Then he let himself get a bit more earnest, fairly dirty with the following, “I want you to kiss me. Want your fingers inside of me, driving me crazy, opening me for you until I’m perfectly _stretched_ and you can take me, drive into me like you own every fucking-”

“ _Merlin_.”

Arthur’s smile was faltering, all the wicked teasing rapidly replacing with something much more dangerous.

Something much more _fun_.

Merlin smiled at him, said a mockingly sweet,

“ _Yes_ , Arthur?”

and Arthur’s lips went into a straight, angry line, his eyes darkening into a perfect thunderstorm. The challenge hummed through every inch of his expression, of his body, all of it taut and ready to pounce and _this_ , this was Arthur after Merlin pushed a ton of snow straight into his face while looking him clear in the eye, this was Arthur after Merlin had refused to give him the remote control, had told him to just ’come and get it if he wanted it’ (innuendo pre-calculated and fully intended). This was Arthur who’d pressed him up against a wall after, had told him with a little snarl that he was a ’mouthy, little _brat_ ’, had looked at him in a way that had made Merlin so, so sure that this time it _had_ to be desire moving over his face, that this time, _this time_ he _had_ to kiss him, had to _take_ him.

This was Arthur, beautiful and hungry and challenged, except it was more, except he was starting to look almost _unhinged_ with it, looked like he was holding onto sanity by a very thin thread, and Merlin would’ve gone crazy with it, would’ve been positively delirious, if he hadn’t been so intensely focused on snapping that last, _stupid,_ little thread.

He very, very carefully folded his legs around Arthur’s hips again, very, _very_ slowly dragged him down, and Arthur went, frozen into pliancy, face falling into Merlin’s neck, cock sliding into the cleft of his arse (which was still _slick_ ) and Merlin turned his face into his ear, murmured,

“ _Actually_ … I’m probably still slightly _open_ from before, you probably don’t even need the prep, could probably just _slide_ \- _in_.”

Arthur shuddered against him, breathing going fast and uneasy, murmured a half-pleading, half-reprimanding,

“ _Merlin_ ,” into his neck, before slowly rolling his hips again, hard cock _gliding_ against Merlin’s hole, which was _incredible_ except for how it wasn’t at all enough, and so Merlin mumbled,

“Besides,” with his mouth still pressed to the shell of Arthur’s ear, with every word vibrating right into him, “If you do it like this, if you do it _right now_ without using your fingers first, without opening me _properly_ , I’ll be all t-”

Arthur sat up in a flash, pressed a hand to Merlin’s mouth to drown the last word, had a stretched arm on the side of his head again.

“Shut up,” he said, eyes wild, frantic and utterly, _brilliantly_ terrifying. “Just- _Shut up_.”

Merlin smiled under his hand, hoping he could feel it, then licked the palm of it, and Arthur withdrew like he’d been stung, and then - without warning, with none of the careful control he’d exercised through the previous parts of the evening - he pressed two fingers into Merlin, making him shudder and groan in surprise, sweeping him away on an overwhelming wave of pleasure, as he revelled in the burn of that rough entry, in finally getting Arthur to touch him properly, touch him like he wanted to.

“ _God_ , Merlin, look at you, _look at you_. You’re so… _so fucking-_ ”

A low growl swallowed the last word and Arthur pumped his fingers frenetically, leant down to press hard, delicious bites to Merlin’s chest, to his nipples, twisting them between his teeth and _God_ , that _really_ hurt and Merlin groaned and whimpered, went positively dizzy with it all, suddenly felt grateful for the restraints as they kept him in place, kept his body locked down so all he could do was lie there and feel, feel, feel, accept that relentless, wonderful onslaught as it took over his senses.

“You’re such a… such a _slut_ , aren’t you? Just _taking_ it. You want it so bad, don’t you, you want- You want _me_ , you want me to-”

Merlin almost found himself laughing at that, probably would have, if his mind hadn’t been so foggy with pain and with pleasure, if he hadn’t been so delirious with everything that was happening, with the crazed sound of Arthur’s voice, the desperation that was barely contained in it.

Arthur’s mouth, his teeth, started travelling up from Merlin’s chest and Merlin tilted his head backwards into the mattress to expose his neck, maybe on instinct, maybe just because he _wanted_ , wanted his whole neck red and bruised from Arthur’s mouth, wanted so _much_ it was pooled low and hot and needy at the bottom of his stomach. Arthur didn’t seem to like that though, or actually, probably, liked it much more than he wanted to, and he growled again, louder and angrier now, not exploiting the newly exposed skin with his teeth, but slowing down his fingers, withdrawing them from Merlin’s arse, propping himself up with that hand and trailing the other one up over Merlin’s stomach, up over his chest and then, eyes glazed over, expression far away-

He wrapped it lightly around Merlin’s throat.

A thousand alarm bells made shrill, frightened sounds in Merlin’s mind, but he firmly told them all to shut the hell up, insisted on tilting his head further backwards.

“ _Look at you,_ ” Arthur said again, slower now, more dazed than angry, every single bit as dangerous. “You’d let me do _anything_ , wouldn’t you?”

He lowered himself, pressed his hand harder down, pushing Merlin’s nape against the mattress, making his head going back to neutral so he could meet Arthur’s eyes, which somehow, _somehow_ was both more frightening and more exciting than the fingers that were wrapping tighter and tighter around his airways, almost blocking his breathing now.

“ _Wouldn’t you?_ ” Arthur near-hissed, wanting an answer apparently, or maybe just for Merlin to tell him to stop, tell him no.

“ _Yes,_ ” Merlin rasped.

“Yes,” Arthur parroted, voice wavering and then-

He clenched his hand.

And it wasn’t that it wasn’t terrifying, it _certainly_ was.

Merlin’s hands were tied up above him, Arthur was by far the stronger of them anyways, and he looked so very far away, looked so completely out of it, and still, _still_ , Merlin was scared more because his instincts made him, less because he had any actual, conscious doubt of his safety. Because Arthur’s eyes were right there, locked with his, more beautiful and stormy than Merlin had ever seen them, and Merlin’s breath was in his hands and it was so, so safe there, would be no matter how wild Arthur got, no matter how crazed Merlin had made him.

So Merlin just let himself go in his hold, drifted into the utter exhilaration that was Arthur, had _always_ been Arthur, let himself melt into the hazy frost of those eyes, into the ever-present, ever-piercing assault of them.

Then, slowly, the haze seemed to lift and Arthur let Merlin go, making him heave for breath as his lungs expanded to refill. He fell forwards, letting his supporting arm go slack, face landing ungracefully in Merlin’s shoulder with a frustrated, muffled,

“ _Ugghhhh_ , Merlin… You make me… make me _lose it._ You make me _crazy_.”

A soft smile played on Merlin’s lips as he tried to deepen his breath, tried to let his heart understand that it could stop beating so damn fast now.

“’M very sorry ’bout that,” he said, slightly hoarse, trying to get his cheekiness back from the adrenaline saturating his blood.

“You’re _not_ ,” Arthus said in a strange mixture of petulance and admonishment. “You’re a horrible, wicked, little _fiend_ and you’re never, _never_ sorry.”

Merlin pressed a soft kiss into Arthur’s hair, inhaled deeply to flood himself with the half-familiar, completely intoxicating scent of him.

“Well, _maybe_ if you didn’t insist on teasing me like you’re-”

“Maybe if you would just _let me._ Maybe if you could just… just _be nice to me,_ just this _once_.”

Gentle, incredulous laughter bubbled through Merlin.

“I’m _always_ nice to you, Arthur.”

Arthur grumbled in disagreement, and Merlin thought to himself that it had to be _mostly_ true, couldn’t be too far off when he’d been in love with the man since he was twelve, but then… Alright, maybe _sometimes_ , maybe him being fourteen (or fifteen or sixteen or seventeen) and flirting shamelessly while Arthur was two years older, maybe that could’ve been somewhat frustrating if it had actually been working, if Arthur had been trying to ignore him. To _resist_ him.

“Alright,” Merlin said, letting his voice soak in something over-sweet, “You want me to be nice?”

“Mmh.”

“I would really like it, _please_ , if you would fuck me with your fingers again. Maybe with one more this time, if you don’t mind terribly. _And_ if you’re gonna choke me again - and you can, if you’d like, it was really quite lovely - just… Try not to actually murder me. Please.”

Arthur lifted himself up by his arms again, frustration still narrowing his eyes, his mouth trying to curl up with something amused, something slightly fond.

“You’re the worst, Merlin, do you know that? You’re the _actual- worst_.”

Merlin laughed, chuckled really, but it was enough to make Arthur’s eyes a bit brighter when he continued,

“I should just go back to teasing you. It’s better when you’re all… sobby and… _desperate_. All _helpless_.”

“Mmmh,” Merlin said, mouth curving up to match Arthur’s playful smile, “And how do you think that would go?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly, licked his lips thoughtfully.

“I could gag you.”

“So you could… And I’m sure having my lips stretched around a ball gag, seeing me drool around it, _whimper_ into it… I’m sure that would do absolutely _nothing_ for you.”

Arthur considered this, considered Merlin for a moment more, then sighed in a long-suffering way, said,

“Fine. _Fine_. You wanna moan for me, Merlin?”

He pumped some lube onto his right hand again, let his fingers circle Merlin’s rim, lowered himself down to whisper in a menacing way that had Merlin’s stomach bubbling with excitement.

“ _You wanna squirm around my fingers?_ ”

“ _Yes,_ ” Merlin gasped, fighting to hold onto his thoughts as Arthur’s fingers slid into him, two for a moment, then three, the sensation almost getting him where he needed to go, Arthur almost how he wanted him to be.

“Thank you. Sir,” he forced out, trying to keep the game going, trying hard not to slip up and lose himself.

Arthur snorted.

“ _Sir_ ,” he echoed, like it was silly, or maybe just like it was kinda nice, like he was tasting it again.

“Or did you prefer-” Merlin was cut off by a mean twist of Arthur’s fingers, clenched his hands hard around the robes. “Did you prefer master?”

A crude laughter escaped Arthur, and he drove his fingers further in, made Merlin whimper at the strange sensation of it, at the way his cock was becoming increasingly, uncomfortably hard.

“ _You know, Merlin…_ ” he said, voice changing into that silky-smooth, hyper-dangerous, I’m-going-to-eat-you-and-spit-out-your-bones thing that had shivers running down Merlin’s spine, inspired a vague thought that that was _not good, was not-_ “I think I like both.”

Oh. _Shit_.

“ _But tell me…_ ” Arthur’s mouth was at his ear now, words murmured into it, and Merlin shut his eyes, held onto himself and the ropes so, _so_ tightly. “If I’m your _master_ … _What_ \- does that make _you?_ ”

A high-pitched sound escaped Merlin at that, and he _knew_ , knew he was gonna lose this, kind of, sort of, _really very much_ wanted to lose it, but couldn’t bear getting teased again, couldn’t bear having to wait and wait and wait and-

“My servant?” Arthur thrust with his fingers. “My _pet?_ ” Did it again. “My _slave?_ ”

And his voice was going into that near-hiss, so angry, so hungry, every ensnaring, filthy word resonating so loud in Merlin’s head, drowning out everything else, dragging him down, down, down, until all he could think was, _Yes, yes, anything you want me to be, anything, anything, anything for you,_ but he couldn’t let go just yet, had to take this a little further, just a little, little bit, and he _could_ do that, could say,

“Your-” Except Arthur interrupted him, hit his prostate in a way that had him seeing stars, had his head swimming, so it felt like an impossible effort to go on with, “ _toy_. For you to- _enjoy_ , as you please, _any way-_ you please,” and Arthur growled with dissatisfaction, made the movement of his fingers meaner and rougher, as Merlin continued, “The perfect- one too, so completely- _devoted._ _Obsessed_ even. Isn’t that- what you said- _sir?_ ”

“ _Merlin_.”

“Letting you have- _everything_ without… without asking for anything in- return. All of it perfectly untouched by… by anyone else. Always reserved, always meant _only_ … for _you_.”

Arthur was hovering over him, eyes burning wild and furious, fingers thrust all the way in, held still in a tense curl.

“Merlin,” he said again, voice lower, colder now, and there was that warning again, that ’you’d better stop this _right now_ ’ that made Merlin want to never stop it ever. Especially not right now, because he knew how thin that thread was getting, could feel it grating away under his words, and he had one more thing, one little ace up his sleeve that he had to use before capitulating.

“Letting you have my virginity, before…” He licked his lips, reached for his courage. “Before I’ve had my first kiss.”

Arthur’s breath stuttered.

All the colour drained from his face.

He withdrew his hand, making Merlin whimper at the loss, at the strange emptiness it left him with.

And this time, this time when Arthur said,

“You haven’t been _kissed?_ ” his voice was actually in a hiss, sounded almost _disgusted_ with the idea, positively _frenzied_ with the obscenity of it.

“ _No_ ,” Merlin said, voice quivering a bit from the look on Arthur’s face, slight tremble coming back to his body at the breathtaking view from the cliff he was jumping off. “No, it’s- like you said… _sir_. I was only ever- _yours_.”

Arthur looked at him for a moment, expression dead and terrifying, playfulness gone entirely.

“Okay,” he said then in a flat voice, crawling off the bed, going through a few drawers before finding a little silver package. “Okay, Merlin. You win.”

He knelt down on the bed again, crawled up to Merlin, tore the package with his teeth and rolled the condom onto himself.

Merlin watched him, breath caught somewhere, mind losing any motivation to hold onto any form of control, and he was just _flooded_ , with Arthur, with longing, with the increasing tremors going through his body, and, fuck, shit, _God_ , Arthur was actually gonna fuck him, he was just going to _do it_ , and he wasn’t going to be any kind of nice about it either, not now, not after everything Merlin had done to unravel him.

A hand pressed under each of Merlin’s knees, folding him together again, this time not to tease, not to play and Merlin was shaking now, shaking properly and Arthur had to be able to feel it, had to feel it clearly too, but didn’t seem to care anymore, let his arms slide from Merlin’s knees to the outside of his legs, hands coming down to bracket Merlin’s head again, shoulders pressing Merlin’s legs up by the ankles.

Merlin bit back a ’Wait’, bit back an ’I need a moment, please just-’, bit back all the pleas that might snap Arthur out of it, might make him think that he didn’t want this, but he couldn’t just do _nothing_ , had to buy himself a second, just a _second_ to be ready for this and stuttered,

“Does it- Does it _hurt?_ ” before he could stop himself, instantly regretting it, instantly afraid that he’d ruined everything.

He hadn’t though, didn’t need to worry about that _at all_ , because Arthur’s mouth was just curling up in a cruel, little smile as he said,

“ _Sometimes_ ,” while lining himself up, the feeling of it making Merlin so dizzy he was afraid he might faint and miss the whole thing altogether. “But it doesn’t matter, does it, _pet?_ ” and there was a little snarl to that last word, an angry little thing that made Merlin’s toes curl. “It doesn’t matter, because you’ll let me anyways, will let me fuck you even if it does- _hurt._ _Won’t you?_ ”

Merlin let out a broken little whimper, let his head do a tiny little nod, then felt the girth at his entrance move, just a tiny, tiny bit, stretching already, hurting a little already, and he gasped, closed his eyes hard, trying to find anything inside of himself to hold onto.

“ _No_ ,” Arthur growled, “No, look at me. _Merlin_. _Look-_ at me. _Now._ ”

And Merlin did - opened his eyes to be flooded by blinding azure, by years and years of affection, devotion, longing, by everything Arthur meant to him, every little thing he wanted him to have.

Arthur brought up a hand to stroke his hair, more commanding than soothing, but it was good, _so_ good _,_ and Merlin melted into his touch, his voice, his eyes, and when he said a soft,

“ _Breathe_ ,” while brushing his fingers over a cheek, when he said, “Relax for me, love,”

Merlin melted entirely, allowed the intrusion into his body, and as soon as he did, as soon as he let that guard down, Arthur pushed forwards, entering completely in one smooth stride, his body falling into Merlin’s.

Merlin stuttered on his inhale, whimpered with the explosion of stimuli, with thousands, millions of nerve-ends going off, assaulting his mind until he could barely contain it, until he was afraid he was gonna break under the pressure, under the sensation, the _idea_ of Arthur’s cock buried deep inside of him, _stretching_ him so impossibly wide.

Arthur groaned into his ear, deep and heavy, mumbled,

“ _God_ , Merlin, you’re- You feel so… _Fuck_.”

He did a tiny movement with his hips, and Merlin gasped, instinctively tensed up with the unfamiliarity of it all, said a distressed, overwhelmed,

“ _Arthur_ ,”

which thankfully made Arthur pause, prop himself up to look at him, to brush his fingers over a cheek again.

“Does it hurt? It shouldn’t hurt, I was just being… _mean_.”

Merlin shook his head slowly, licked his lips nervously.

“No, it’s just- I’m just so… _full_.”

A dry chuckle left Arthur at that and his lips curled up with a lascivious smile as he said,

“Yeah, you’re all… _tight_ ,” which made Merlin echo his chuckle a bit, except that vibrated through him, made him move just the tiniest bit, and a jolt of sensation went through him, made him do another little whine.

Arthur sighed softly, shifted his balance to one hand, deftly untied one of Merlin’s wrist with the other and repeated the movement to the other side, freeing Merlin while keeping his lower body as still as he could.

He took one of Merlin’s hands and placed it on his shoulder, the other on his neck, then started manoeuvring Merlin’s legs down so they were on his hips instead of over his shoulders, which couldn’t help but cause movement, had Merlin concentrating hard on relaxing and not sounding too pathetic, but ultimately left him in a much more relaxing position.

“There,” Arthur said, almost gently, “And then you just breathe-” He looked at Merlin, waited for him to do so, to make it deeper and less strained, “And I’ll start moving, but I’ll be very slow. Okay?”

“Okay,” Merlin agreed softly, and Arthur did move, pulled out a bit, slow like he’d said, but still so _intense_ , and Merlin inhaled sharp against it, held onto Arthur, his fingers digging into soft, warm skin. Then Arthur pushed in again and the first shock of pure, unmistakable pleasure pulsed through him, made him moan, made Arthur smile and say a sly,

“That’s more like it,” before he repeated the movement, had Merlin muffling a groan into his neck, clinging to him with his arms, his legs, with everything that could help press his body up against Arthur’s.

After a bit more of that, a few more careful thrusts, Merlin started somewhat relaxing into it, started dissolving into that dizzying pleasure, into the thought that this was _actually happening_ , that it was _Arthur_ , Arthur inside of him, nipping at his neck, carefully letting Merlin settle into the sensation of it all. Arthur, who was being much gentler than Merlin had expected him to be, much nicer than he’d given him any _reason_ to be.

“Thank you for- Even though I’d been all… Thank you for making me relax. Letting me touch you.”

Arthur snorted.

“Oh, don’t say that.”

Merlin’s words replayed in his mind and he heard how that sounded, smiled a bit and made his voice that fake-sweet thing when he said,

“But it’s ever so kind of you to let me, _master_ , I’m so very, very grateful that you’d-”

Arthur thrust in hard, replaced Merlin’s next word with a startled whimper and said,

“Quiet. _Pet_ ,” which had Merlin’s cock twitching, had it acting way more revealing than the traitorous thing had any right to be.

“Like that, do you?” Arthur purred, and, _Fuck it_ , Merlin thought, said,

“Yeah,” and then, “Yes, sir.”

Arthur chuckled into his neck.

“Careful, Merlin. Almost sounded like you meant it there.”

Merlin kissed his neck, kissed the lobe of an ear, whined a bit when Arthur went in a bit faster, a bit harder, had it angled so it almost brushed against his prostate.

“Maybe I do.”

Arthur withdrew a bit to look at him. He took hold under one of Merlin’s knees again, brought the leg carefully up to hook the ankle over his shoulder, then sank in, dreadfully slow, deeper with the leg up, and all Merlin could do was watch him, drown in those eyes, in every excruciating, marvellous detail of the penetration.

“So flexible,” Arthur muttered, “ _So_ flexible. Could’ve just… tied your feet right up there with your arms.”

He did another harder thrust and Merlin moaned again, felt that thing in the bottom of his stomach wake, that hunger that seemed to develop exclusively for Arthur, the one that made his blood prickle in his veins, made it simmer like it was affected by some strange, exotic fever.

“ _Utterly delicious,_ ” Arthur murmured and leant in closer, nose brushing against the side of Merlin’s, his lips less than an inch away, and Merlin wanted, _needed_ , said,

“Kiss me,” only to see that little smile again, that cruel one that accompanied the responding,

“No.”

Merlin whined, moved up to try to take it anyways, but Arthur moved back, put a hand in Merlin’s hair to keep him down.

“No, Merlin,” he said sternly, “Your first is mine _…_ and I’ll take it when I want to.”

And, _oh_ , that possesiveness, it did things to Merlin, made the fire in his stomach that much hotter, more urgent, made every bit of pleasure he was experiencing sharper, and when Arthur continued with,

“But I’ll make you a deal, darling… If you promise not to kiss back…”

when he grabbed Merlin’s jaw and forced it open, when he enclosed Merlin’s bottom lip in his own and said,

“ _I’ll have your mouth while I fuck you,_ ”

it was searing, _scorching_ , completely unbearable and Merlin said a pitiful, half-pronounced,

“ _Please_ ,” that did nothing but make Arthur’s eyes shine with malevolence, made that smile more toothy and merciless.

He kept holding Merlin’s jaw, kept thrusting in slowly, kept pressing kisses along the line of Merlin’s bottom lip while he drawled,

“Do you… _promise,_ _Mer_ lin?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Merlin replied (or tried to despite how his mouth was held open), because he wanted the soft warmth of Arthur’s lips so bad he’d take it any way he could, wanted to dive into that surrender too, no matter how agonizing it’d be, no matter how excruciating this too-slow pace was becoming, how utterly impossible it was not to move his mouth when Arthur let his jaw go and kept mock-kissing him, kept teasing with little little nips to Merlin’s upper lip, to his bottom one.

When he kept taking and taking and taking with a tongue over each lip, with a slow lick into the middle until Merlin opened for him, let him dive into his mouth, and it was _obscene_ , lying there, being so passive while Arthur fucked him leisurely, unhurriedly, like Merlin really was a toy, a brand new one that Arthur had finally gotten hold of, could take his time exploring in whatever way he found most interesting, most enjoyable.

Merlin let his arms fall down to the side and twisted his fingers into the sheets, focused on feeling, on not doing, on that _idea_ ringing through his head, the dirty, thrilling, _riveting_ one that he was _Arthur’s, Arthur’s, Arthur’s_ , a pretty plaything for him and such a good one too, because he was, was gonna be so _good_ , so very, very good, was gonna lie there and keep his promise and let Arthur enjoy him as slow and torturous as he liked.

After a while Arthur withdrew a bit, murmured a little, “ _You didn’t even try…_ ” with something slightly surprised or just slightly awed in his tone.

“You told me not to.”

“Mmh, and you’re _so_ _obedient_ and _subservient_ so _naturally_ you wouldn’t-”

“I could be. I can be.”

Merlin said it seriously, earnestly because he meant it, really did, would happily be obedient if that’s what Arthur wanted, if that’s what he needed from him.

Arthur stroked his cheek with his fingers again, stopped moving in him for a moment.

“Merlin, I want… Tell me- Tell me who you belong to. Tell me.”

“You.” Merlin returned his touch, felt the soft texture of his hair, the sharpness of a jawline, said, still so serious, “Only you. Always you.”

Arthur’s breathing seemed to turn a bit strained at that and there was a frown pressing on his brows, a soft, troubled thing that Merlin didn’t understand.

Then he was sinking into Merlin’s shoulder, pressing his teeth deep, _deep_ into it, and Merlin groaned loudly with the sharp pain, felt his eyes rolling back, felt a slight stretch from his leg as it was pressed up, almost touching his ear, and Arthur was still doing small, shallow thrusts, sending ripples of pleasure through him and it was… _glorious_. Was especially so when those thrusts started becoming hard, started becoming _properly_ hard for the first time of the evening, and it wasn’t just pleasant then, it wasn’t just nice, it was- _good_ , it was _satisfying_ , it was forceful enough to exercise that fire in Merlin’s gut, it was so _brilliant_ , and-

Arthur slowed down, pulled back to rest his forehead against Merlin’s, to breathe hard and mumble,

“I can’t- _can’t_ , I thought- Thought it would be- but you’re too… I _can’t_ -”

“Hey.” Merlin ran a hand over his nape, fought stubbornly through the haze of pleasure to say, “Are you alright? What is it that you can’t?”

“No, it’s… _nothing_ , it’s-” Arthur sighed, sat up a bit, sent Merlin a forced smile and a, “It’s nothing, It’s fine, let’s- We’ll change position.”

He sat up the rest of the way, back on his knees, shifting them to be on the outside of Merlin and started moving again, gentler and more controlled now, leaning forward to have one arm in the mattress again. Merlin wanted to ask him again, wanted to make him say what was bothering him, but then Arthur was wrapping his free hand around Merlin’s cock, touching it for the first time of the evening, and any attempts of forming words were immediately forfeit with the rush of sensation.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin gasped, shivering with the feeling of it, with how his orgasm was suddenly drawing up in his body, drawing closer and closer with every stroke of Arthur’s hand.

Arthur’s smile turned more genuine at that, got a little bit softer, a little warmer, as his voice did when he said,

“Are you gonna come, Merlin?”

And, _Yes_ , Merlin thought immediately, _Yes if that’s-_

“Is that what you want?”

Arthur bent down to kiss his forehead, his nose, to murmur,

“Yeah, that’s… That’s what I want,” and then, looking into Merlin’s eyes, speeding up slightly with his hand and his hips, “Wanna see you, Merlin. Wanna feel you around me when you do.”

Merlin moaned, filtered a hand into Arthur’s hair, wrapped the other around his nape and started moving his hips up into Arthur’s hand, back into his cock.

“Please, will you… _Harder_ , Arthur, _please_.”

Arthur growled at that, softness slipping from his features again, and he bit Merlin’s lip, did go harder, just a bit at first and then more, more, more, until it was almost as good before, until his pelvis was crashing into Merlin’s arse with every thrust, and it didn’t take long from there, didn’t take long until Merlin was moaning,

“ _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur,_ ” and going dizzy, going higher, higher, higher, pleasure going wilder, moans growing louder, until-

He tipped over the edge and his body was contracting, spasming around the girth inside it, fingers clenching hard into soft hair, into warm skin, and Arthur watched him through all of it, slowed down as the orgasm ebbed out, but didn’t lose the ferocity crackling through his eyes, didn’t look sated or finished at all, which was either very exciting or a little bit disappointing.

Eventually he stopped moving entirely, and there was a little moment of Merlin floating in warm, fuzzy pleasure, strangely content with how Arthur was still hard inside him, before Arthur brought up his hand, covered in Merlin’s come, brought it up to Merlin’s mouth, and didn’t need to say anything, didn’t need to issue any instruction when his eyes were still so stormy, and Merlin could tell what he wanted so easily.

Merlin opened his mouth, licked a stripe off one of the fingers, then sucked it into his mouth, sucked it clean and tasted himself, not breaking the eye contact, not pausing from his task until he’d cleaned all of Arthur’s fingers, all of his hand, and Arthur was still just looking at him, still not going softer in any way.

“You can keep-”

“No.”

Arthur abruptly drew back, rolled the condom off and laid back into the bed next to Merlin, staring into the ceiling above him.

“But-”

“ _No,_ Merlin, don’t. I can’t…” He sighed, reached out for Merlin and pulled in him, urging him to drape himself over Arthur’s side, head coming to rest on his chest. “Can we just… just lie here for a moment? … _please?_ ”

Merlin glanced up at him, was certainly going to figure out what was bothering him, but didn’t think it would be any use to try to pry right now, so he sent him a soft smile and,

“Yeah. Yeah, of course we can,” while settling into the curves of his body.

Arthur returned his smile but with that forced little thing again, then wrapped his arms around him, drew him in with a sigh, a deep breath pressed into Merlin’s hair.

They lay there for a little while, and it was incredibly nice in most ways, with the orgasm still buzzing pleasantly through Merlin’s body, with the unmistakable affection in Arthur’s hold, with the shared body heat. But it was hard to ignore the tension in Arthur, the way it pressed against the silence that otherwise might have been comfortable, and eventually Arthur shifted a bit, said,

“I’m sorry.”

And Merlin didn’t like that, didn’t like it at all, felt a heavy flip moving through his stomach, a thousand continuations to that sentence, a thousand versions of ’I’m sorry, this isn’t working’, ’I’m sorry, you have to go home’, but when he forced himself to say,

“For… _what?_ ”

Arthur replied with,

“For the… the _kissing_ thing. It was… _cruel_ ,” and relief immediately washed over Merlin.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed, then gave Arthur a look from under his lashes to go along with the following, “It was pretty hot though.”

Arthur snorted and looked at him in an incredulous way, like he was being purposefully obtuse, like he didn’t _want_ to understand what Merlin was trying to tell him.

He did look a bit brighter though, looked a bit relieved that Merlin wasn’t upset, and Merlin felt encouraged, shifted to sit up, to swing a leg over his hip and straddle him.

“Did you think I would be mad?”

He brushed his fingers over Arthur’s face, appreciating having time (and the free use of his hands) to touch him. To admire him.

“You should be,” Arthur replied softly, grasping the hand trailing over his face and pressing a kiss into it. “Should probably be mad about a whole number of things.”

“Perhaps,” Merlin said, smiling, shrugging a bit. “’M not though.”

He bent down to hover over Arthur’s face, to brush their noses together, give him the kind of chaste, fond little kisses he’d been giving Merlin all evening, but avoiding the lips carefully, still feeling like… like he wasn’t _allowed_ to, honestly, and it was a nice feeling somehow, an alluring thought still, that it wasn’t his to give anymore, that first kiss, but Arthur’s to claim when he wanted to.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, mouthing at a jawline, “So pretty. Look at you.”

He drew back again, combed his hand through downy, blonde locks, stroked over the line of a lip.

“Like you’re… _shining_ … Really taking the whole _golden boy_ thing to the next level.”

A frown pressed on Arthur’s brows.

“Don’t idolise me, Merlin, I’m-”

“Oh, I’m not, believe me. I know you’re an arrogant arse.”

That made Arthur laugh a little, had him pinching Merlin lightly in the side, muttering that he was a, “ _cocky, little bastard_ ,” and Merlin squirmed and laughed and tried to escape his fingers, saying,

“You are, you are, but you’re…” He caught Arthur’s hand, brought it up to his face to wrap their fingers together and press little kisses into Arthur’s. “You’re so much more, you’re… So sweet and clever and strong and you’re…”

He caught Arthur’s eyes and held them, felt all the words at the tip of his tongue, all the incredible things that Arthur was, everything that he meant to him, and when he tried to express all that, when he tried to find words that could contain it all, he ended up saying,

“And I love you.”

Arthur stiffened immediately, eyes blowing up, something concerned, worried folding his mouth.

“Merlin-” he said, a bit warning, admonishing again, but with none of the anger it had held earlier.

“ _No_ ,” Merlin countered, “ _No_ , it’s… It’s always, ’Oh, Merlin, you’re just a kid, you don’t know what that means, you don’t know him well enough to say that.’ It’s always everyone thinking I’m being _stupid_ and _young_ , that they know my feelings better than I do, and I’m… I’m _sick_ of it Arthur, I’m _sick and tired_ of being told what I can and can’t feel, and _you…_ You just- You _fucked_ me, and _YOU-_ ” Merlin took a small pause to breathe, to contain the rising volume of his voice, the anger building in it. Then he looked at Arthur, finished with a seething, “ _YOU_ _don’t get to tell me that._ ”

Arthur lay still for a few seconds more, still a bit wide-eyed but more surprised than concerned now.

Then his wariness seemed to melt away and there was a little _smile_ , a fond one, and,

“ _Christ_ Merlin… You’re so… so _fierce_ ,” before he flipped them over so he was on top again. “You know, the truth is, I’m really… really very _happy_ that you love me.”

The anger bled out of Merlin, was quickly replaced by something warm and shiny, something that started bathing him in glowing affection, spread out on his face in a mirror of Arthur’s smile.

“ _Close your eyes,_ ” Arthur whispered, and Merlin did, felt him move closer, felt his hands coming up to cup his face, and then-

Then Arthur’s lips were against his, velvet-soft and warm and perfect, and Merlin was almost entirely sure that he was supposed to kiss back now, decided that he was just gonna assume that and let his own lips move to meet Arthur’s, felt that light explode inside of him, beam throughout his entire being, filling him with boundless, overwhelming ecstasy that buzzed through every muscle, soaked into every little fiber of him.

They kissed like that for a while, all slow and sweet and gentle, then Arthur murmured,

“Merlin, would you… I want- Could you say it…”

And _oh_ , oh Merlin should’ve _known_ , should’ve known Arthur of all people wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with it, would feel the exact opposite, if only he allowed himself to. He smiled into the next kiss, said another,

“I love you,” and then there was something like a soft, little growl from Arthur, some hungry little thing that made Merlin want to provoke him again.

He tried to tell himself it was probably a bad idea, that it probably wasn’t such a nice thing to do when Arthur had looked so troubled before, and the compromise became that he opened his mouth a bit, darted out a tongue, not knowing exactly how that worked but having some idea that that was a way to make a kiss more dirty.

Arthur accepted the invitation eagerly, let his own tongue meet Merlin’s, started rolling his pelvis into him, murmuring,

“You _love_ me,” and then it was a bit too tempting, with that little edge of giddy intoxication in Arthur’s voice, then Merlin couldn’t quite help taking Arthur’s hand, putting it over his heart and mutter,

“All _yours_ ,” which seemed to be quite effective, had Arthur growling again, properly now, biting Merlin’s lip, complaining that,

“You can’t just _say_ things like…”

Merlin grinned, said a smug,

“Clearly I _can_ ,” and then, nipping at Arthur’s bottom lip, he whispered a little, “ _Fuck me._ ”

There was a noise almost like a whimper at that, a weak protest that,

“I did.”

“Fuck me _properly_.”

Arthur shook his head into the next kiss, body getting tense again, the movement of his mouth, his teeth getting wilder.

“No.”

Merlin met his advances in full, wrapped his legs around his hips, mirrored the rolling of his hips.

“Yes.”

The assault stopped and Arthur started withdrawing, tried to disentangle himself from Merlin’s limbs, saying,

“No. No, Merlin, I can’t-”

But Merlin was having none of it, followed him as he sat up, as he tried to crawl backwards, then pounced on him with,

“Yes. Yes, you can,” while he pinned his arms by the side of his head, pushing them into the mattress, trying to make him understand that he had no intention of letting him run from this.

“ _No_ ,” Arthur said again, face full of rising panic, body squirming under Merlin’s hands but not fighting him off properly, “No you don’t- don’t know what that… You don’t want-”

“I do.”

Merlin caught his eyes, tried to convey the strength of his intention, the certainty of it.

“ _No_ , you _don’t_ , no one… No one wants _that_ , no one wants…”

And, _God_ , the insecurity streaming through the cracks of his fascade, the sheer vulnerability unveiling on his face, it was so…so utterly _heart breaking,_ it was so… so _unnecessary_ , he was so-

“Oh, Arthur, you… You lovely, silly little… You… _absolute moron_.” A bit of outrage spawned on Arthur’s face at the last remark, but Merlin answered it with a little smile, kissed it off his face, said, “I want you.”

Arthur shook his head a little, insisted that,

“No, you just-”

“I want _you_. Alright?” Merlin let his wrists go, brushed some hair out of his face, kept staring insistently into his eyes. “I want you… _wild_ and _hungry_ , want you cruel, violent, ravenous, I want… Fuck, Arthur, I _need-_ ” He cupped his face, assaulted his mouth in what was probably not an entirely skilled manner, but that couldn’t possibly matter now, not with the way Merlin had to taste, had to _have_ , made a pleased little groan when Arthur finally responded, cupped his face back and joined in on the kiss. He withdrew an inch to mumble, “Need you to _take_ , Arthur, you’ve no idea, no idea the way I… I _crave_ you, how fucking _mad_ you’ve driven me- all these fucking _years._ ”

“ _You_ ,” Arthur said incredulously, “ _You_ , I’ve been driving _you-_ ” He bit Merlin’s lip again and trailed off into a dry chuckle, pushed Merlin to make him sit on his knees, then sat up on his own to face him.

He ran his hands over Merlin’s face, down over his shoulders, let his eyes roam, search him.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, soft, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, “Yeah I’ve been… I mean, I think I had my first fantasy about you- _spanking_ me when I was like… fifteen or something.”

Arthur’s mouth quirked up in one side while his eyes started darkening, while his voice filled with that eerie-smooth thing and he said,

“ _Did you now…?_ ”

“Mmh,” Merlin said, getting nervous again, feeling fifteen suddenly, fifteen in his room with his hand on his cock, with Arthur’s name on his lips and that bottomless hunger burning in his blood. “Yeah, you had those… those _gloves_ , the black, leather ones and you would… Would look at me sometimes, touch me sometimes, and I would go mad for it, Arthur, would need it so fucking much. Would imagine being over your lap, squirming while you said all these filthy things to me, told me I was such a horny, little slag, such a needy, dirty whore, because I’d get so hard for you, would moan so loud when you hit my arse, would beg you to-”

Arthur’s hand flew up to cover his mouth again, eyes behind it a perfect pitch-black now, but he didn’t tell Merlin to shut up, didn’t seem angry as he said,

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much,” and Merlin slowly nodded behind his hand. “No, _really_ Merlin, you _have to_ , you _have_ to tell me. You’ll promise.”

Merlin smiled, took his hand down from his mouth, gave it a quick kiss and agreed that,

“I promise.”

Arthur caressed his face, returned his smile with an uncertain one of his own.

“Do you know the traffic light thing?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Right, so… So I can ask you for your colour, and if you say ’green’ then you’re good and you want me to keep going.”

He paused, looked expectantly at Merlin, and Merlin supressed a little eye roll, repeated,

“Green for ’I’m good, keep going’.”

Arthur nodded seriously, continued,

“If you say orange, you’re at your limit and you want me to slow down or do something else.”

He paused again and Merlin sighed, said,

“Orange for ’slow down’.”

“And if you say red, then it’s too much and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and I’ll take care of you.”

Merlin smiled again, warm and affectionate, pressed more kisses into Arthur’s hand.

“Red for you’ll stop and take care of me.”

Arthur returned his smile properly, promised that,

“I will… I will, Merlin. And you can say that - or any of the other ones - even if I’m not asking. We can stop any time you want.”

“I know,” Merlin murmured, still playing with Arthur’s hand, kissing up over his arm, biting lightly into his tricep, trailing up until he was peppering kisses into Arthur’s neck like an attention-seeking puppy.

Arthur made a noise that sounded almost like a giggle, batted at Merlin’s head.

“This is important, Merlin, you need to- _Really_ , can you focus for just-”

“’M fine,” Merlin assured him, “Know all your words. You can stop talking now.”

He made the rest of the way to Arthur’s mouth, started licking into it, made an unhappy whine when Arthur grabbed his hair and dragged him backwards.

“If you can’t speak,” Arthur said sternly, “You’ll tap twice to get me to stop.”

“And why wouldn’t I be able to speak?” Merlin said sweetly, smiling broad and faux-innocent, fighting ineffectively against Arthur’s hold, mostly to feel the sharp pain against his scalp that resulted from it.

Arthur rolled his eyes, let Merlin go with a little shove and slipped out of the bed to stand next to it, and _oh_ , oh he was so _naked_ , so utterly exquisite with all that muscle and all that skin, with that beautiful, mouth-watering cock that was completely hard, was at the same height as Merlin’s head now.

“Why don’t you get up here… _and I’ll show you?_ ” he said, voice going smooth again, carrying that dangerous little purr that had Merlin’s stomach twisting up on itself.

Merlin slowly crawled off the bed, carefully keeping distance, adrenaline flooding back into his bloodstream with the gleam in Arthur’s eye, the ready-to-pounce tension in his body.

“Get on your knees.”

Merlin meant to, tried to tell his body to do that, but it was vetoing the movement, locking up, so he just stood there, watching Arthur warily, trying to keep his system from launching into some fight-or-flight system that would be entirely unhelpful.

“ _Merlin_ …” Arthur said, voice thick with threat, dripping with that _you-better-obey-me-right-now_ thing that never failed to flood Merlin with heady arousal. “Get on your knees… _Now_.”

Merlin didn’t, still couldn’t and when Arthur took a step towards him he immediately stepped back, heart beating wild and loud in his chest, pulse beating faster and faster in his throat.

Arthur cocked his head, smiled smugly and said an amused,

“Merlin, are you… _scared_ of me?”

“ _No_ ,” Merlin said, petulant and automatically defensive, stepping back as Arthur stepped forwards again, clumsily opening the door behind his back without ever taking his eyes off Arthur, needing to feel he couldn’t be trapped against it.

“ _Yes…_ ” Arthur said, smile growing wider, more predatory by the second, “ _Yes_ , you are. All that bravado, Merlin, all that _cheek_ , and you’re… you’re so _scared…_ _aren’t you?_ ”

And well, maybe Merlin couldn’t quite get a hold of himself, maybe he couldn’t manage to calm down, but he could at least be a little less pathetic about it, could admit that,

“Yeah, I’m… I am,” with a nervous little smile to answer Arthur’s, a reassurance that he wasn’t scared in a _bad_ way, not in a way that meant Arthur had to disengage from this lovely, horrifying thing and check up on him.

Arthur took another step forwards, Merlin took another step backwards, and that thing playing on his mouth was barely a smile now, was more like some toothy, terrifying parody of one, some hungry, haunting thing like a lion snarling, and, _really_ , he was so beautiful like this, was everything Merlin wanted, was something to get lost in, to dissolve into, and when he said,

“ _I’m gonna have you, Merlin,_ ” when he was purring, drawling, promising that he was, “Gonna have you on your knees and fuck that insolent, filthy mouth of yours until you’re gagging for me. You’re gonna be so good for me, Merlin, gonna _feel_ so fucking _good_ for me,”

Merlin was melting, searing, blazing, couldn’t possibly hold on any longer, wanted, _needed_ to let go and said a stumbling,

“Arthur, if I just… _run_ , if I let myself be… _scared_ , do you promise to- _catch_ _me?_ Promise you won’t start holding back again?”

Arthur chuckled, wry and mocking, said,

“If you _run?_ Now, _why…_ would you do that?”

while he took another step, which made Merlin take another step as he tried to ignore the taunting, kept pushing for that promise he had to get, saying,

“Will you, Arthur? Do you promise- You have to… have to promise that you’ll-”

“Yes,” Arthur interrupted, taunt gone from his face, expression cool and deadly, “I promise, Merlin.”

Merlin licked his lips slowly, said a little, “ _Good_ ,” and kept walking back with every step Arthur took forwards, felt every bit of rationality, every piece of higher-order thought activity bleed from his brain, all of it replacing with some primitive escape protocol that was priming every muscle, monitoring every little movement Arthur did, every advance he made as he stalked towards him.

“ _I’m gonna hurt you, Merlin_ ,” he said, hushed and low, making Merlin’s obedient heart skip a beat for him, “And you’re going to love it, aren’t you? You’re going to moan so prettily when I take you… when I _fuck you_. _Aren’t you?_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” Merlin agreed, barely able to hear his own voice for the way his heart beat was pounding through his ears. His eyes roamed over Arthur’s body, greedily tried to drink in every little curve, every stretch of glistening skin, every bead of sweat that was lingering from when he had been…

Oh, and he had been, hadn’t he, had been _in_ Merlin, and that was still so completely incomprehensible, so utterly impossible, and now he was looking at Merlin like he was starving, famished, ravenous, like he was going to-

There was a blur of movement.

Arthur’s feet shot forward, the rest of his body followed, attacking, and Merlin rushed backwards, right foot connecting with something-

the threshold of the door, he thought vaguely somewhere-

and he stumbled-

nearly stumbled, hands coming up to grab the frame around him and he stabilised himself, sure that he was finished, caught…

Only to see Arthur standing still again, slight smirk on his face, and it had just been a _ruse_ , a feint, he was just _playing_ with him, and Merlin’s heart was going so, so fast now, beating so hard it was near painful, and he was shaking again, trembling wildly, while he waited for the next assault, waited for Arthur to-

He did.

Feet moving again, body pouncing forwards, he was coming closer, closer and now it was a complete collapse in Merlin’s mind, thoughts speeding up and scattering, dissolving completely, while he used his arms to spin around, so he could let his legs shoot out in front of him, could charge forwards into the living room, sure Arthur’s hands would reach his shoulder any moment, almost feeling them there-

 _sensing_ him there just behind him-

imagining his grip so vividly he was…

almost sure he had been caught already and-

still his feet padded underneath him,

still they carried him away,

still he kept moving,

still he-

 _ran_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahhh what a great place to end a chapter :D
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed that! Things will get kinkier from here on, as Arthur shifts into the collection of taking-Merlin’s-virginity plans that he had told himself very firmly that he _wasn't going to do._ There'll be some gagging, some more bondage, some of that spanking that Merlin has been fantasising about and... Fun! Just lots of fun, fun fun ;)
> 
> Anywayyys if you _did_ enjoy yourself, I would be super, super grateful for both kudos and comments. _Especially_ for comments and especially for the long ones, but certainly for the short ones too (and certainly also for kudos). 
> 
> I hope you’re all doing well, despite the current situation, and are all staying safe <3 Until next time!
> 
> P.S.: I got a [tumblr](https://witching-wingthorns.tumblr.com) recently, and you're very welcome to come talk to me there or just browse through my blog.


	5. (flickering I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **INTRODUCTORY, LENGTHY RAMBLING** (entirely skippable, I promise)
> 
> Heeeey guys :D Been a while, hasn’t it? I’m very sorry for the delay. I’ve been taking a demanding course and I’ve been at my parents’ house aaand my attention is generally sort of like an over-eager puppy that runs around to the shiniest thing it can see (currently involving a DnD campaign that I’m starting this Monday :D :D) until it’s exhausted and flops around on its back and sleeps for 12 hours.
> 
> Next, I wanna say… I wanna say that _originally_ , I meant to continue where the last chapter left off. I did! I promise. But ummm then I was like „Haha, imagine if I threw in lots of backstory right in the middle of the porn. Wouldn’t that be fun?” And then I thought, „I can’t do that. Come on. My poor readers.” But thennn… Then I thought, „Actually it’s my story and I super can and I actually positively _live_ for playfully, sweetly torturing people.” So um…  
> So I sort of did. BUT. I wanna say that I love this chapter so, so much and I hope that if you do unleash your rightful wrath, then you unleash it on me by writing lots of 😭😤 in the comments (I promise each one will nourish my soul and make the porn even more beautiful and evil when it does arrive), but you refrain from taking it out on the innocent chapter that never asked to be placed here. Deal? Cool. Then on you go, enjoy watching Arthur being the thirstiest of thirsty bois and, if you need them, read the warnings below.
> 
> **WARNINGS** (for those who want them ^_^)  
> If you’ve read the above section you might have guessed that this chapter contains flashbacks, which means Merlin and Arthur are initially both under 18. There are obviously no sex scenes (given the whole virgin thing) but there will be some fantasising from Arthur’s POV and it does get a _little_ detailed. There’s also a single mention of underage masturbation at the end. Arthur is two years older than Merlin, and it starts when Merlin is 14 and then flashes forward in time. (This is the only reason I changed to „Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings”.)
> 
> **MUSIC**  
>  There’s a bit of music featured in this chapter. It’s a song called ’Bad Ideas’ by Tessa Violet and I definitely didn’t write the lyrics of it, so all credits to her. If you wanna hear it, the original is [ here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNtK6jx9y4A) and there’s an acoustic version (that might be a bit closer to how it sounds in the chapter) [ here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xigECQjV42I).
> 
> I think that’s everything! I hope you enjoy the chapter <3 See you in the end notes! :)

_-—— Four years ago ——-_

The phone buzzed again, and Arthur sighed, annoyed, not really wanting to go out, but feeling like he was rather supposed to, like that’s what you did when you were sixteen and your friends told you that it was gonna be ’ _so much fun_ ’ and ’ _Come on Artie’_ , ’ _Come on mate, don’t be boring_ ’. And fine, Arthur wouldn’t be, so he called a cab, put on a shirt, looked himself over in the mirror, maybe a little more admiring than what was entirely appropriate for anyone who wanted to make just a pretense of being humble, but then… Arthur rarely bothered with that pretense.

He got his wallet, put it into his pocket, phone in the other one, opened the door to step out of his room, into the hallway and-

A mess of hurried, too-long limbs crashed into him, accompanied by a familiar mop of black hair that briefly brushed against Arthur’s face before the lot bounced back from the impact, landed on the floor in a chaotic mess.

Arthur leant against the wall, felt a smirk creep up on his face as he said a slightly teasing,

“Good evening. _Mer_ lin.”

“Arthur, I’m- _Sorry_ , I- _God_ , I didn’t see you, I was just-”

Merlin scrambled off the floor, padding himself down, cheeks going red, hair so messy, and-

_Oh_.

“You look- _different_.”

Merlin brightened, sounded nervous, excited as he said,

“Yeah, we were- Morgana thought it would be funny, if we tried to… If she tried to… Do you- _like it?_ ”

Arthur looked him over, let his eyes dance over the thick, pink substance glistening on Merlin’s lips, on his elongated, thickened lashes and thought, _Yes_ , felt rather surprised by it too, felt rather strange altogether as he thought that, _Yes_ , he rather did actually.

“It’s… _fine_ ,” he said, and Merlin’s expression faltered in an instant, made him look utterly crestfallen, and _oh_ …

Oh, Arthur should have known, should have recognised that wide-eyed thing, that nervous fluttering that had been accompanying Merlin lately, probably had been for quite a while now. But he was perhaps somewhat unaccustomed to seeing it on boys, had perhaps not expected it from _Merlin_ of all people.

“Yeah alright, cool,” Merlin muttered with a sad, little pout on his face, “I’ll just, just go back to Morgana and Gwen, we were going to…”

He sighed dramatically, made his way past Arthur, and Arthur, despite himself, despite being fairly used to people fawning over him, felt rather bad, found that he didn’t really like seeing that strange, bright face look so gloomy.

“Merlin,” he said, stopping him in his tracks, making him turn around with hope immediately reigniting in his features. “It’s… _nice_. You look nice.”

The resulting smile could’ve rivaled the sun in its brilliance.

“I- Thanks! It’s- I mean, it was just for a laugh, you know, we were just- just playing around and I- I’m…” Merlin trailed off with a dreamy, little sigh, with his cheeks reddening into a pretty blush. “I’ll see you around Arthur.”

Arthur chuckled, returned the smile with a soft one of his own, said,

“See you, Merlin,” before he turned around, walked downstairs and put on his jacket, found his mind wandering to strange places, pondering over the taste of lip gloss, whether it was sticky and sweet like syrup or honey, whether he could’ve licked it off, could’ve pressed Merlin up against the wall and sucked if off his bottom lip, whether his breath would’ve hitched and-

_Huh_.

Well that was certainly _new_. Both the person and the… _gender_ and it had to be rather ill-advised too, with Merlin being, what, fourteen? Which was too young, _certainly_ , and had Arthur even been thinking about sex when he was fourteen? Yeah alright, he probably had, hadn’t he, but still, it felt- Didn’t seem quite right, was probaby not the kind of thing he should be thinking about. Would probably turn out rather disastrous if it was pursued.

Arthur left the house, went into his cab, decided that would be the last of that.

Which lasted for about five minutes, before he was looking out the window, seeing the tress fly by, and his mind was back at it again, getting much filthier this time, trying to recall Merlin’s face, only now imagining that perfectly-applied mascara all ruined, all _smudged_ , maybe from frustrated little tears, maybe just from being pushed into Arthur’s bed sheets as he-

_Oh_.

Fuck.

-———-

Arthur went out with his friends, made out with three girls, because he had ’ _so much pull, mate, it’s bloody unbelievable_ ’, and thought he was pretty cool, _knew_ he was, in fact, was told repeatedly by the way people looked at him, by the way the girls kissed him. For a moment he almost considered telling his friends - and this was after quite a few beers, okay, was not in an entirely sober state - almost considered telling them that even his little sister’s gay best friend wanted him, had looked at him all wide-eyed, like Arthur had given him the _world,_ just because he’d said he looked nice.

He didn’t though, didn’t feel quite right about it somehow, didn’t wanna think too much about it either. Would rather think about that third girl and the way she was grinding up against him, about how it would feel to take her home and fuck her, hard and drunk and fun.

Somehow ended up thinking a lot less about her and her perfectly rounded arse, a lot more about lip gloss.

Ended up going home alone.

- _—— Three years ago ——-_

The snow was cold where it had gotten in, clumped between Arthur’s jacket and his gloves, melting down over his face from the last hit that he hadn’t managed to dodge. He threw the firm ball in his hand, laughed loud and delighted when it collided perfectly with the side of Percy’s head and Percy grimaced, ran into the cover he’d been headed for.

Something at the corner of Arthur’s eye caught his attention and he twirled to see Merlin, to see his blue eyes and his dark hair which was wet from the snow, was clinging to his face. To see the giant, loose _snowball_ in his hands and the slight hesitation on his face, the impish playfulness that was wrestling with it.

“ _No_ ,” Arthur said, a clear warning lacing into his voice, “ _No,_ don’t you even think-”

Merlin’s face split into a wide, nervous grin and he pushed the monstrosity into Arthur’s face, made every single one of his nerve-ends explode with the sensation of _cold._

_So, so cold._

But Arthur stood completely still, willed himself not to react, then brushed the snow off his face with an arm, glared at Merlin and purred,

“ _Oh, Merlin…_ Oh, sweet, little Merlin, you _really_ shouldn’t have done that.”

A shrill, tense giggle left Merlin and he turned around to run away, making Arthur leap forward to chase him, chase the feet thudding through the snow. But not for long, not far, because Arthur was easily faster, caught Merlin and tackled him down, rolled him to his back and sat down over his legs, made his giggle dissolve into wild laughter, into squirming and a delighted,

“No! No! Arthur, no, don’t it’s- _Cold,_ God, you utter _bastard_ , _let-me-go, let-me-go, let-me-go,_ ” while Arthur pushed snow into his hair, his face, his everything, making him sputter and shiver, making his cheeks rosy, his skin pale, his eyelashes wet and clinging together and somewhere around noticing all that, Arthur’s attention started shifting.

He stopped his assault, pinned Merlin’s wrist by each side of his head and hovered over him to say a husky,

“Do you repent, Merlin?”

Merlin met his gaze, stubborn and defiant, did a nervous, little shake of his head and licked his lips.

Arthur left his left hand with both of Merlin’s wrists, gathered up some snow with the right and worked it up under Merlin’s shirt, gloved fingers skimming against warm skin. The blazing heat of it was almost tangible through the leather, and Arthur pressed the snow in, eliciting a full-body shiver from Merlin along with a noise, a pitiful little thing that made Arthur grab a second handful of snow, demand that he,

“ _Say you’re sorry._ ”

Merlin shook his head again, even smaller movement now, and Arthur pushed the second handful into him as well, filling the space under his shirt up with snow, making his shirt and jacket ride higher and higher up on his waist.

He wasn’t fighting back anymore, not squirming, just lying there, perfectly still and shivering, pupils dilating, mouth a bit open, breathing going harder as Arthur pushed in the third handful, and the realisation of Merlin’s arousal started hitting him slowly, nudged its way into his mind. He indulged himself to a moment of watching him, of letting himself appreciate those strange, high cheekbones, letting himself consider, for just a moment, if he could bend down and have those parted, red lips, what that would feel like, how soft they would be against his own.

Then he stood up, reached down a hand to Merlin who looked immediately disappointed but took it all the same, and-

And well, just because Arthur was a very nice person really, just because it wouldn’t do to leave Merlin looking so sad, when he could leave him as flushed and horny as he’d been a moment ago, he leant in to brush some snow from Merlin’s face, held his chin for a moment to say,

“ _You know, Merlin._ You’re lucky there are so many people here… Otherwise I might not have let you go so easily,” while he let his eyes go down to Merlin’s mouth, knew Merlin would notice, heard the hitch in his breath when he did. He glanced up at his eyes for a second more with a sly, little smile, then let him go without another word, walked back towards Percy and Leon to continue their fight, watched Merlin at the corner of his eye as he stood still for a moment before going back to the house, probably to get a warm shower. Probably a rather long one.

Arthur smiled to himself, thought this whole thing with Merlin was turning out to be rather entertaining.

-———-

The fire crackled as a log collapsed, falling down to release a swarm of embers into the air, and Arthur moved back a bit not to get burnt, watched them flicker into the cool evening.

“Oh come oooon, Merls, you _have_ to play. You’re so _goood_.”

Gwen was thrusting a guitar into Merlin’s arms and he kept laughing, kept insisting that he wasn’t going to, kept shooting not-very-subtle glances in Arthur’s direction like he had been all day.

Arthur pulled back the stick he was holding, inspected the roasted marshmallow on the end of it, and just because he wanted to test his influence a little bit, just because he wanted to see if Merlin would do it (or maybe just because he occasionally kind of liked it when Merlin played), he said,

“She’s right, Merlin. You should play,” in a cool, level tone that made it sound more like an order than a request.

“Oh,” was Merlin’s response to that and a soft, “Oh, ok,” before he carefully took the guitar from Gwen, made her look quite cross with his sudden compliancy.

“ _What?_ Why do you do it when _he_ asks?”

Arthur fought back a childish ’Yeah, _Mer_ lin, why do you do it when _I_ ask?’ and sent Gwen a smug smile instead, listened as Merlin played a few opening chords, listened as his smooth voice started out with,

“ _I hope that you don’t think I’m rude_

_But I-_ ”

He strummed a fast chord on the guitar, put his fingers over the strings to pause them for a second, looked up at Arthur through his lashes with the following,

“- _wanna make out with you_ ”

Arthur choked on his air, coughed while Merlin gave him a sly little curl of his lips, kept going with,

“ _And I’m a little awkward, sure_

_But I could touch my face to yours, oh_ ”

And when did his voice get that deep? Where was all this suave _confidence_ coming from, and since _when_ did he start doing this… this _coy, alluring_ thing? Since _when_ had he gotten so damn _good_ at it?

_“And no one ever called me smooth_

_But I just wanna see the grooves_

_Between your hands, your teeth, oh_

_Tell me, do you think about me?”_

_Yes_ , Arthur thought, _Sometimes_ , and immediately questioned whether that could really be true, when that had started being a _thing._ But he kept watching, became utterly mesmerised as Merlin’s fingers danced over the strings, as his unfairly enticing voice declared that,

“ _I just wanna kiss you_

_And even if I miss you_

_At least I’ll know what it’s like to have held your hand, oh!_

_No-o, hey_ ”

Arthur’s mind started wandering, started considering all kinds of inane plans, like whether he could drag Merlin away from the group, could press him up against a tree and give him what he was asking for. Could taste that pretty, clever mouth that he was currently unable to move his gaze from, could feel the skin of his stomach under his fingers like he sort of had at the snow ball fight a couple of months ago, only he could do it properly then, without the gloves, without the pretense of bullying, could move his hands further down and-

“ _Bad ideas, hey_

_I know where they lead_

_But I got too many to sleep_

_And I can’t get enough, no_

_I wanna kiss you standing up_

_Oh-oh, no_ ”

Arthur looked down at his marshmallow, toyed with it, twisted it off the wood and tried to ignore Merlin’s voice, tried to push his influence away, push himself to feel the kind of superiority he usually associated with Merlin’s attraction, instead of feeling it mirrored in himself, instead of feeling this _need_ that he wanted to say he hadn’t felt before, but then… Then he thought of lip gloss and found himself staring at Merlin’s mouth again, licked his lips and took a bite of the molten candy in his hand, thought Merlin might taste a bit like that, all sweet and pink and soft.

“ _And if tomorrow makes me low_

_Well it’d be worth it just to know_

_’Cause I can’t get enough, no_

_I wanna kiss you standing up_

_O-oh_ ”

Arthur’s phone buzzed, lighting up as he took it out of his pocket to show a message from Sophia, a ’ _Hey babe, how’s the trip?_ ’

And Arthur considered that, considered burying himself in texting until Merlin was done singing, but the disappointment was already sneaking into Merlin’s tone, and he _did_ ~~tell~~ ask him to sing, so he locked his phone, put it back into his pocket and listened to the rest of the song, dropping all pretenses that Merlin didn’t have his full attention.

After the last line of the song, the last, “ _I wanna kiss you standing up, oh-oh,”_ Merlin put down the guitar, sent Arthur a coquettish, shy little smile, a familiar one that suddenly seemed a lot more intentional than Arthur had previously thought it to be. And oh, Arthur wanted to do things to that smile, wanted to bite it off Merlin’s lips and taste the mischievousness right under it, and before he could do anything of the sort, he stood up, declared that he was, “gonna go for a walk.”

Which sent Leon into his most irritating, mother-hen-lecture mode, and he was just _yapping_ for ten minutes about flashlights and compasses and whether Arthur would be able to make his way back, before Arthur had had enough, told him that he’d be, “fine, _mom_ ,” and left.

Left with neither flashlight or compass which was possibly a little dumb but had felt quite satisfying in the moment. Did get a little scary for a second before there was a little,

“Hey. Can I join you?” and a flashlight being turned on to light up the path ahead.

Arthur smiled, despite sort of having left to avoid him, despite being slightly worried about the sheer amount of stupid things one could do in a forest with a pretty, horny fifteen year old who wanted to jump your bones bad enough to come running into it after you. And well, some of those things were probably exactly the kind that said fifteen year old wanted to do, but a great deal of them were coming from that particular department of Arthur’s brain that had sexual encounters confused with some kind of primal hunting thing that involved all manners of teeth and shoving and taking. The department that was currently filled to the brim with images of Merlin on his knees or on his back with hazy, slightly-teary eyes, sounding completely wrecked and desperate as he said _Please_ , and _Please-please-please, Arthur, I need you- won’t you-_

“Sure,” Arthur said, and Merlin walked up to his side, sent him another one of those _smiles_ and Arthur was halfway to pressing him up against a tree already.

They walked for a while in silence, then Merlin said,

“Did you like it?” and Arthur played dumb with a,

“What?”

“The song.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. And then with just a hint of admonishment, “You know I’m dating Sophia, right?”

He snuck a quick glance at Merlin’s face, saw his lips curl up at the side as he sprinkled some of that synthetic innocence on his voice to say,

“I know.”

Arthur snorted, almost chuckled with his responding, “Right,” and Merlin tried again with another, shameless,

“But did you… _like it?_ ”

And this time Arthur couldn’t help laughing a bit, couldn’t quite help his honesty when he said,

“Yeah. Yeah, I liked it,” and watched as Merlin’s smile brightened.

“Cool.”

Merlin started talking then, about everything and nothing like he did, but it wasn’t one of the times when Arthur listened, was one of those when it faded to a pleasant blur in the back of his mind, comforting and familiar and… _home_ in some strange way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He started stealing glances of Merlin’s lips again, started thinking about trees, about how far they were from the others, about marshmallows, and before he really knew what he was doing, before he had any chance to stop himself, he said,

“What did it taste like?”

and Merlin stopped his prattling, stopped walking with a confused,

“What…?”

Arthur stopped too, heard his own words replay and _Fuck_ , he thought, _How in the world do I save that._

“Well- uh, Sophia’s… _birthday_ is coming up and I- eh… I was thinking you were wearing that lip gloss and maybe- maybe she would like that.”

And because Merlin wasn’t a complete idiot, was in fact very clever, he didn’t believe that pathetic excuse for a second, said,

“That was over a year ago,” to which Arthur could only agree that,

“Yes,” it rather was.

“And you want to know what it- _tasted_ like…?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, tone curt and surprisingly certain. Then again, he _did_ want to know that. He really, _really_ wanted to know that.

Merlin looked him over for half a minute, then licked his lips, said,

“Raspberry,” and Arthur could imagine it so vividly, could taste it on the tip his tongue and-

He walked off in a random direction with a clipped,

“Alright,” before he succumbed to any of the stupid suggestions that started flashing through his mind.

He could hear Merlin trailing after him, kept walking without looking at him, kept going until they made it into a clearing, then looked up, saw the night sky, the stars, the way they burned against the blackness.

He sat down in a slightly dramatic fashion, plopped down on his back and declared that,

“I have no idea where we are,”

which made Merlin laugh, which in turn made Arthur laugh and Merlin plopped down beside him with a content,

“Me neither.”

They lay there for a while, watching the stars, listening to the stillness of the forest. Then Arthur asked,

“What were you talking about?”

“When?”

“Before. I wasn’t listening.”

He glanced at Merlin to see if that annoyed him, found him smiling playfully instead.

“School,” he said, “History. We’ve started having Mrs. Wilson. She’s really good.”

“ _Wilson?_ Oh come on, Merls, she’s boring. _History_ ’s boring.”

“She’s not and it’s not. And you don’t think it is, you just never paid attention.”

Arthur snorted.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. History is epic battles, strategic warfare, great kings and queens… You have _three_ swords on the wall of your bedroom. There’s no way you think history is boring.”

A soft smile played on Arthur’s face and he looked at Merlin, said,

“Alright then. Tell me about these epic battles.”

Merlin twisted his head to return the smile, then started talking, started painting pictures of the grand leaders of history, their trials, their wars, their losses. He told Arthur about Genghis Khan and the rolling fields of Mongolia, of Hannibal and his elephants, the impossible path over a mountain. He pointed to the stars and told Arthur that even up there was a king, a Cepheus with a beautiful queen, Cassiopeia - and oh, that constellation Arthur had heard about and ’Yes, that’s very good Arthur’ - and Cassiopeia had angered the sea by boasting of her daughter’s beauty, had nearly cost the daughter her life when Poseidon summoned a great beast from it to kill her. A beast that _would_ have killed her, if it hadn’t been for the hero Perseus who showed up to slay it.

“I could probably slay a sea monster,” Arthur murmured, eyelids growing increasingly heavy, hard ground feeling softer and softer underneath him.

“I’m sure you could,” Merlin agreed amiably before he started telling another tale and Arthur fell asleep with his soothing voice in his ear, with fantastic stories colouring into his dreams.

-———-

When the sun climbed over the trees and spread its light into the clearing, Arthur started stirring, became hazily aware of the press of a warm body against his own, contrasting the cool forest floor he was lying on. There was some small suggestion somewhere in his mind that he ought to throw that body off, maybe poke it a bit in the side with a foot and tease its owner a bit, but then…

He was just fifteen, really. Just fifteen and in love with his peaceful, little face pressed into Arthur’s chest, and it was a bit disarming, that contentment that seemed to radiate from him, seemed to have followed him all the way into his sleep. Arthur found he didn’t really want to shake him out of it, didn’t really wanna do much but lie there and watch him.

Watch the rise and fall of a chest, the slight, upwards curl of those lips, the way his limbs were sprawled over Arthur, one leg over his hip and an arm across his chest.

It was a bit possesive almost, that sprawling and an interesting thought too, if it went the other way as well, so it wasn’t just his sister’s Merlin sleeping on him, not just Morgana’s-best-friend _-_ Merlin, but _Arthur’s_ Merlin with his clever mind and sharp tongue and pretty singing. With his pretty face and his pretty hair and Arthur’s fingers were combing through that now, feeling how coarse and stubborn it was, just like its owner who seemed so sure in his affection for Arthur, so confident in his mission, and _maybe_ , Arthur thought, maybe he could just roll him over and have a little taste, just- just…

_Just rip off his clothes and fuck him blind in the middle of the woods._

Arthur let out a little groan, wished for a moment that he could be just a slightly gentler person. Then he sighed, ruffled Merlin’s hair in an attempt to wake him, which just made Merlin hold on tighter, just made him press himself more firmly into the body he was lying against. And it was getting a bit dangerous now, this cuddling-alone-in-the-woods business, was made worse by the idea sounding louder and louder at the back of his mind, this _My Merlin, my Merlin, my Merlin_ thing that kept circling around in there, until he did shove Merlin, just a bit by the shoulder, but enough to tip him off, enough to make him roll to his side with a disgruntled, little noise.

“’Morning,” Arthur said with a bit of playfulness that he felt he could afford with the added distance. “Sleep well, did you?”

Merlin smiled at that, sly again but with that infuriating facade of innocence plastered all over it.

“Yeah,” he said, sweet as ever, “Did you?”

“Mmh… We should get going.”

Arthur got up, offered Merlin a hand, was met by that _pout_ again, and _really_ , he was an _expert_ in all this wasn’t he, in this wide-eyed, naive, guileless act, and _God knows_ what he was hiding underneath it.

That did send Arthur wondering a bit, that last thought, did make him hopeful for the depravity of those secret parts of Merlin, but he shouldn’t… _couldn’t_ allow it, couldn’t let himself slip into a fantasy that if he took what he wanted, everything would be alright. That it wouldn’t end up like he knew it would, with Merlin looking at him, disillusioned and disappointed that his shiny fairytale prince was so thoroughly unprincely under the golden exterior.

“Come on,” he said, dragging Merlin up, “I’m sure Leon is minutes from arranging a search party by now.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed, easily exchanging his pout for a little smile, “Yeah, he probably would have hours ago, if I hadn’t been with you.”

Arthur snorted, said a wry,

“Oh, I’m sure,” and looked around the clearing, wondering how they were gonna find their way back.

Merlin watched him for a moment, still smiling in that strange, secret way, then said,

“It’s this way,” in a bright, clear voice, waving for Arthur to follow him down some overgrown, little path that he hadn’t noticed.

“Thought you didn’t know where we were, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said, trying for annoyance and failing quite spectacularly, his voice full of fondness he didn’t know how to hide.

Merlin just shrugged, gave him a little flash of that smile over his shoulder, told him the poor excuse that,

“It was dark.”

Arthur shook his head at his shamelessness, followed him without further protest, enjoyed the stillness of morning in the forest, how it was only interrupted by the occasional bird singing and the buzzing happiness that was coming off Merlin in waves, showed itself in every bouncy-light step he took.

-———-

Arthur was in a bookstore the first time it happened. He wasn’t there for that, had some other errant to run, some novel he was supposed to pick up for his sister, but then-

It was _gorgeous_ , which really wasn’t the kind of thing Arthur often thought about a book, but it just.. It just really was. There was dark leather binding it and all these… _stars_ on the cover, pressed into the dark material with a bit of gold, forming some of the same constellations that Merlin had been pointing out to him some months ago. Arthur had to reach out and take it from the display, found when he started browsing through it, that it was full of stories about that hero, Perseus. Found that it was very compelling actually, with beautiful illustrations and brilliant graphic design and he found himself sitting down with the book open in his hands, found the pages almost turning themselves, turning themselves very rapidly in fact, until there was suddenly a slightly exasperated voice asking if he was,

“-gonna buy that, sir?”

Arthur looked up at the tired-looking bookstore bloke standing in front of him, confused with how ancient Greece was dissapearing from around him, even more confused with how the sun had gone down outside. He mumbled that,

“I, um… Yeah,” mostly because he’d feel like a complete arse if he didn’t after already having read over half of it and apparently stayed in the store right until closing.

He found his wallet, went to the cashier and then the guy was asking if it was a gift and Arthur’s first impulse was to say no, because he didn’t really know _what_ it was anyways, but then…

Then there was Merlin’s face, a simulation or a memory, he wasn’t sure, but Merlin’s face all the same, smiling and looking so _pleased_ , pleased that Arthur had actually gotten him something for his birthday for once, and…

And then it was done suddenly, Arthur had said that it was in fact a gift and it was wrapped up with a little card that announced it was for Merlin and Arthur went out of the store just before it closed, wondering vaguely what had just happened.

Then, just as the bloke was locking the door, Arthur remembered about Morgana’s book, cursed under his breath and started walking home while he made up excuses to tell his sister and plans to come back tomorrow.

- _—— Two years ago ——-_

The house was decorated, more than it had been last year, and Arthur supposed it was becoming a bit of a tradition now, that Merlin had his birthdays here. He wasn’t entirely sure if it had been so much Merlin’s decision as Morgana’s, but then, Morgana really seemed to enjoy throwing them and there was only so much arguing that could be done with his sister. It was a larger house anyways, more suitable for parties than Merlin’s mum’s was, and he figured Merlin didn’t mind.

What was happening right now, though, was not the real party, just a cosy, little get-together where presents could be exchanged and cake could be had. All the participants were collected around the dining table; Merlin’s mum, Arthur’s dad, Morgana, Gwen, Merlin himself and Arthur at the edge of the table like the the least belonging member of the celebration that he was. Not that he felt like that, not with the warm smiles and long looks that Merlin kept sending him from his role as the centre of attention, seated right in the middle of it all.

Arthur kept debating with himself about the deep-blue package in his room, kept trying to talk himself into just getting it already, add it to the pile of presents on the table, regretting furiously that he hadn’t just put it there _before_ everyone sat down, so it wouldn’t have to be such a _thing_.

He kept pushing it, kept thinking he would do it _soon_ and then suddenly the last of the rich chocolate cake was gone, the presents started being opened by an impatient, grinning Merlin, and it quickly became clear to Arthur that all he should be feeling for not getting his present was deep, deep gratitude, because, honestly-

What had he been _thinking_.

Morgana’s present was tickets to a concert with this little indie band that Merlin had started listening to. Tickets that had probably cost her thirty quid or something, something _reasonable_ , while Arthur, absolute idiot that he was, had spent over a hundred on that book, the book that _actually_ , he would have to explain to everyone, to his _dad_ , to Merlin’s _mum_ , was a reference to a conversation they had had when he had fallen asleep with Merlin _alone_ in a _meadow_ while _looking at the stars_.

It wasn’t just an inappropriately expensive gift, it was a _romantic_ one and everyone at the table would know it, Arthur was suddenly sure, and _honestly_ -

_What_ had he been _thinking._

Later, when the small party had ended and the larger one was filling the house with thrumming noise, Arthur sat alone in his room, feeling slightly buzzed, feeling the cursed thing _staring_ at him, and he slowly started to realise that having a present for Merlin that he wasn’t ever planning on giving him…

Well, that was a _thing_ too.

- _———-_

“ _Arthur!_ ” Morgana screeched, barging into his room with all the polite decorum of a raging bull.

Arthur turned in his chair to face her as she marched in, slamming the door behind her.

“Yes…?”

“I just got off the phone with Merlin,” she said and it sounded like an accusation, like Arthur should already know what he’d done wrong. In response he just raised his brows in silent question. “I was _trying_ to set him up with someone. Someone who would’ve been _brilliant_ for him, by the way, but he wouldn’t even _consider_ it, wasn’t even _listening_.”

“ _Okay…_ ” Arthur said, drawing out the last syllable, pretending he was still completely clueless as to where this was going but starting to get a pretty good idea. “And you’re yelling at _me_ , because…?”

Morgana sent him a cold look, said an even chillier,

“Don’t play dumb, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t concede that easily, kept up the blank fascade, lifted his brows again and Morgana sighed exasperatedly, said,

“Because, _dear brother_ , Merlin is _obsessed_ with you. And you’re _encouraging_ him.”

Arthur snorted.

“Oh, come now, Morgana, it’s _hardly_ my fault if the boy has some little crush on-”

“It’s not a _crush_ , Arthur, you fucking know it isn’t. And it _is_ your fault because you never reject him, because you’re… _flirting_ with him and if you keep it up, he’s _never_ gonna be with _anyone_ , he’s gonna die an old spinster, still drooling over photos of you when he’s eighty, believing that it might yet happen all the way to his death bed.”

Arthur snorted again, couldn’t help warming a little with the image of an old, wrinkled Merlin surrounded by cats, still hopelessly, adorably in love with him, but then the meaning of Morgana’s words started coming through and well…

It wasn’t that sixteen was so old that it should be such a surprise, but then, it wasn’t really a given either, and Arthur hadn’t really thought about it before, and now that he had, now that the idea was scratching itself well and deep into his mind, there was something immediately… _pleasing_ about it, and Arthur tilted his head slightly, asked,

“You mean, he hasn’t…?”

Morgana’s face tightened.

“ _That’s not the bloody point, Arthur._ The point is that you’re _playing_ with him, _using_ him like he’s some toy that you can just-”

“I know he’s not a _toy_.”

Arthur felt his own anger stirring now, didn’t like how Morgana was twisting this, how ugly she made it all sound. (And maybe, _maybe_ he felt just a tiny bit guilty too, because maybe _occasionally_ he had sort of, a _little_ bit, been playing with Merlin.)

“Then _why_ are you treating him like one? Why are you stringing him along, giving him false hope that you’ll-”

“Is it?” Arthur interrupted, surprising himself, not really having intended on having this conversation with anyone any time soon.

“What…?”

“Is it-” Arthur took a deep breath, felt his stomach whirl with what he was about to imply, “- _false_ hope…?”

Morgana froze, her mouth open in question, her eyes fixed on Arthur like he’d grown an extra head.

“But, Arthur, you’re… You’re-”

“Straight?” Arthur held her gaze, fought with the parts of himself that wanted very badly to stop talking about this, managed to go on with, “Honestly, I’m not sure that it… _matters_ that much to me.”

Then he realised how easily he could change the subject, gave into the idea far too quickly by adding, “And _Merlin…_ ” Watched how every ounce of protectiveness rushed back to Morgana, as she saw the hunger he let through to his face, the one he let slip into his voice with the heavily loaded, “Merlin has turned out rather… _pretty_. Hasn’t he?”

Morgana stood frozen for a moment, face drawing up in digust until she uttered a hissed,

“ _Stay away from him._ ”

She didn’t look little-sister-annoyed now, didn’t look like she usually did when Arthur antagonised her. She looked completely _furious_ , almost frighteningly so with all the heat drained from her face, with her mouth tight, her eyes full of deadly thunder.

If Arthur had been a reasonable person, he might have said something like ’Yeah, you’re right, it’s a bad idea. I know it all too well and I’ll leave him alone.’ He might have let Morgana’s anger slide by, might have soothed it by letting go of his own. But Arthur wasn’t _that_ reasonable, least of all when arguing with his sister, and he was getting _tired_ of telling himself all the reasons he shouldn’t have Merlin, tired of not even letting it be a discussion.

“ _Why?_ ” he said, feeling fairly petulant about it too, “Why shouldn’t I have him? It’s what he wants.”

“What he _wants_ -” Morgana snarled, “-is not what you want to give him.”

And there it was. Arthur knew the truth of it, knew that disaster was inevitable, but he couldn’t resist the luxury of letting Morgana be the voice of reason, wanted too badly to get a break from hearing it in his own head.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Morgana countered. “He’s _sixteen_ , Arthur. Sixteen and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. And he doesn’t deserve to have his heart shattered. Promise me.”

She stepped closer, looked more pleading than angry for a moment as she repeated,

“Promise me you won’t.”

Arthur searched her face, felt his conscience prodding just as insistently at him as Morgana was, felt his heart aching with the picture of a devastated, heartbroken Merlin. Eventually said a reluctant,

“I… _promise,_ ”

and saw relief wash over Morgana’s face before she gave him a small, grateful smile, made a little movement to turn around and leave, but then-

Then the idea of _never_ having Merlin, of never being _allowed to_ started gnawing into Arthur and he hated it furiously, immediately, couldn’t quite stop himself from adding,

“I promise I won’t… while he’s still sixteen.”

Morgana froze mid-turn, the sweet smile fading from her lips.

“ _What…?_ ”

“You say he doesn’t know what he’s doing because he’s too young. So… So, I’ll leave him alone until he’s older. Until he’s at least eighteen. Then he should be able to make his own decisions.”

Morgana stared at him, eyes wide in outrage.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m entirely serious,” Arthur said. Or heard himself say. He felt like he was sort of losing track of where he was going with this, felt like… felt something waking inside of him, something wild and reckless, something more than the dissatisfaction with being denied something pretty. “If he turns eighteen and he still wants me I’m… _taking_ him.”

“You’re _taking_ him.” Morgana repeated, disbelief blowing up her features.

“Yes,” Arthur said, sounding steady and certain even if he wasn’t really, even if he was starting to feel pretty disbelieving about it himself. Even if he was trying vaguely to stop this, stop himself, found himself unable to fight through this _thing_ bubbling in him, unable to resist the overtaking relief of saying things out loud that had apparently been pressed down at the far edges of his mind for quite some time now. “If he turns eighteen and he feels the same way, he’s… _mine_.”

And of course, he didn’t really mean that, couldn’t _possibly_ mean that, but then… Then there was some level where he _really_ meant it, where he felt that Merlin already was, felt like he wasn’t just something nice being offered to him, but something he _should_ have, was meant to have, something that could never truly belong to anyone but-

“ _Arthur_ , he is _not_ something you can _own_.”

There was no reasonable thing to say against that, no arguing with it, much as Arthur might want to.

So he just kept the eye contact, kept staring stubbornly into Morgana’s anger until she muttered under her breath that,

“There is something _wrong_ with you.”

And something twisted low and heavy in his gut, something painful that made him feel slightly sick, at least until the defense system kicked in, numbed out that feeling, made his voice come out clipped and flat when he said,

“Well, you have two years to make Merlin see that. Don’t you?”

There was a twitch just over Morgana’s eye, a tightening of the few muscles around her mouth that had been left soft. Then she turned around, marched out without another word, slamming the door behind her just as forcefully as she’d opened it.

Arthur took a trembling breath, leant back in his chair to stare at the ceiling and try to catch up with what had just happened, what the hell had gotten into him.

Then his words, his _promise_ started snaking back into his mind, curling up around him and whispering softly that it wasn’t _so_ crazy, that Merlin _should_ be able to make his own decisions when he turned eighteen and _why_ did Arthur always have to be the responsible one. Why shouldn’t he indulge himself when Merlin was offering so much, when it would be so _easy_ to take everything he wanted, when Merlin would let him have it all, would only thank him for whatever he wanted to do to him. When he could have all that was Merlin, all that dark hair, that clever mouth, those _lips_ , and Arthur was halfway to convincing himself that he wasn’t in the wrong in this, when he caught a glimpse of deep-blue wrapping paper at the edge of his vision, was suddenly flooded with that night in the meadow, with the image of Merlin sleeping on him the morning after. Was assaulted with the serenity that had been resting on Merlin’s face, and a wave of nausea hit him, merciless and angry that he would consider doing something that might break something so precious.

Then his memory fast-forwarded a bit further and there was Merlin smiling sweetly, except it _wasn’t_ sweet, and _that_ Arthur decided was what really riled him up about Merlin, that way he _used_ his own innocence, used it _on purpose_ to…

Arthur groaned, sat properly up in his chair only to sink into his desk, to press his forehead into the cool wood, feeling utterly at a loss for what was up and down in this, what he had imagined and what was real about Merlin. He thought about Merlin’s virginity, which was a creepy, _creepy_ thing to do, but there he was all the same, wondering whether that was intentional too, whether Merlin had refrained from being with someone because he wanted… wanted Arthur to _have it_ and oh _God_ … _God,_ that was such a dirty, _dirty_ thought and Arthur could imagine it all too vividly, Merlin in his bed, trembling and nervous because he hadn’t tried any of it before, overwhelmed by every little sensation but _trusting_ all the same, wanting to be there like that, wanting to be taken apart by Arthur, _only_ by Arthur, wanting to be pried open and-

Arthur couldn’t take it anymore, considered for a moment to just give in and have the wank that his prick was becoming increasingly insistent about, found that he couldn’t quite make himself, felt it would be too wrong. Decided to go for a run instead, mostly out of habit, mostly because that was what he usually did when his mind was overworked and overloud like this, when he didn’t know how else to quiet it.

He came back sweating and panting, did feel better, more grounded and opened his phone to find three new messages from Sophia, realised suddenly that during all these considerations, not _once_ had he taken her into the equation. Realised that if he wanted Merlin, he would probably have to break it off with her at some point and found that he cared much less about that than he ought to.

He turned off his phone, took a quick shower and laid back in his bed with a tired sigh, relieved to find exhaustion quickly dragging him down into a deep, heavy sleep. A sleep that was embellished with an utterly pleasant dream where he was king and Merlin was given to him as a gift, sweet and innocent and perfectly willing. And Arthur took him into his bed, took him apart until every piece was perfectly fitted to Arthur’s body and mind, until every part of him had been touched by Arthur’s hands, branded thoroughly with his fingerprint.

He woke up feeling warm, woke up with his cock still hard from his dreams, and in his hazy morning state he decided to have that wank after all, forgot to feel guilty for a moment as he imagined Merlin, pretty and lovely, perfectly open and vulnerable for him. Fantasised about putting him in a collar, not a big, heavy leather one, just some pink little thing like one would put on a kitten and imagined having him like that, having him in a big house and coming home to him, how needy and horny he would be, how he would sink to his knees and forcefully open Arthur’s belt, would be so impatient to have him and Arthur would indulge him, would give it to him hard and rough, fucking his throat first, then flinging him over some kitchen counter, ripping his pants off, removing the butt plug that he would wear for him and fuck that tight little arse, would pound into it while Merlin writhed and gasped, said thank you, _thank you for fucking me, Arthur, thank you, thank you, please I want more, want it harder, harder, harder, please, please, Arthur_ -

Arthur came into his own hand like that, imagining it was Merlin he was coming into and had a blissful moment afterwards, a fleeting second of clinging to that fantasy before the real world came crashing back around him and he _did_ remember to feel guilty, reminded himself that Merlin wasn’t a _pet_ or a _toy_ that he could keep like that - or just a boyfriend he could live with like that - but his little sister’s brilliant, sweet best friend.

Reminded himself that that was all he was _going to be_.

(At least for two more years.)

-———-

_Hey, sry for the delay. I’m going now, will be there in 10._

Arthur sighed with relief and put down the essay he’d been working on while waiting for Percy to finish with whatever had kept him for the last half hour. He typed back a quick reply then stood up to change into his gym clothes, into a pair of loose shorts and a tight, grey sports shirt. He went over to the mirror and tussled his hair until he was happy with the chaos of it, then left for the door, came back to the mirror for a millisecond more and finally made it all the way out of the room.

He walked downstairs, into the kitchen to fill his water bottle, towards the hall to go out the main door, passing by the living room on the way, and-

And every little thought in his mind stopped abruptly, crashed into the next one until they were all nonsense, all had to be discarded and everything was blank except for the stark image of _Merlin_ , entirely unexpected and _bended over_ on a mat doing something completely ungodly with that lithe, far-too-perfect body of his. The one he had pressed into a pair of obscenely tight yoga pants and a close-fitting t-shirt that wasn’t even long enough to reach the pants where they stopped on his belly, that was sort of a _crop top_ really, and why _…_ _why_ was Merlin wearing stuff like that when he was _alone_ , why was he even _here_ and _why_ did it have to be on a day where Arthur had spent most of his morning fantasising about him. About everything that was suddenly in front of him, everything that was currently all stretched out like a fucking invitation in that upside-down V-position, the one called something with ’dog’. The one in which Merlin’s back was all arched, in which he looked wonderfully, _wretchedly_ flexible with his long legs completely straight, in which he looked completely fucking _edible_ with his pert arse stuck up in the air, and Arthur could just walk right over to him and-

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Arthur forced out, and it came out all rasped, came out like he’d caught Merlin doing something _horrible_ , something he _really_ shouldn’t be. But then, Arthur _did_ feel that he shouldn’t be doing that, least of all when the house was empty. (Except for Merlin apparently.)

“Oh! Arthur!”

Merlin let his legs collapse to come down from the pose and sat on his knees instead, twirling around on them to face him.

“ _Hi_ ,” he said, while his face lit up in a sweet, alluring smile, in dizzying infatuation that Arthur wanted to chase, wanted to lose himself in. “Didn’t know you were home.”

“Well, no, I was supposed to…” Arthur started, trailed off, his head still far too busy processing what Merlin was wearing, how he’d looked in that position, and before he could realise what a stupid question it was, before he could stop his mouth, it was forming a second iteration of,

“What were you _doing?_ ” that still sounded far too much like he’d walked in on Merlin slaughtering an innocent baby animal, when really he’d been doing something perfectly reasonable, something that Arthur’s dazed mind was slowly starting to recognise as-

“Yoga.”

Merlin’s smile turned a bit mocking now, his eyes crinkling up with wry amusement that should have been enough to snap Arthur out of his confoundment, didn’t get him much further than inanely repeating,

“ _Yoga_ …”

A bit of confusion mixed into Merlin’s features but was still heavily outweighed by the amusement, the mischief that crept into his voice when he cocked his head, asked a taunting,

“You _have_ heard of yoga before… haven’t you, Arthur?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur said, finally managing some crossness at Merlin’s challenge, finally finding a little hint of brain activity somewhere to defend himself with. “Yes, of course I have, I just… Well, why are you doing it _here?_ ”

“Mmh, well…” Merlin said, getting up and swaggering over to Arthur to stand before him, to unapologetically swipe the water bottle from him like the cheeky little shit he was. “My class was cancelled and we don’t have a lot of space at my house. So Morgana said I could.”

He popped open the lock of the bottle with his teeth, tilted it back to drink from it before passing it back to Arthur who should’ve protested at having his water stolen, had been far too preoccupied with Merlin’s teeth grazing his bottle, with the movement of Merlin’s throat while he drank, the single bead of sweat tracking down over the side of his neck.

And somewhere at the back of Arthur’s mind there _was_ a bit of sensibility, there _was_ something reasonable that started trying to get his attention, tried to get him to _leave_ before he did something stupid. Or, if failing that, just to make him stop staring at Merlin’s lips, at the remaining drops of water resting on them. At Merlin’s tongue as it wiped them off slowly, at how _dirty_ that looked when his eyes were simultaneously travelling down Arthur’s body, shamelessly staring like only Merlin could pull off doing and then shrug it off after, blink and pretend it didn’t happen, resuming his innocent expression so fast most people didn’t notice it’d been gone. This time by snapping his gaze back up to ask an inconspicuous,

“Are you heading out?”

Arthur didn’t register the question for five long seconds, then slowly started nodding, forced himself to say a hesitant,

“Um, yeah I’m… _going_ ,” and forced himself to turn around too, finally listened to that shred of rationality and headed for the door.

“ _Well…_ That’s a _shame_ ,” Merlin said behind him, drawing out the last word in a way that had a little shiver running down Arthur’s spine, had him feeling almost _nervous_ which really wasn’t all too usual. Didn’t get any better when Merlin added, “I could’ve really used your help actually.”

Arthur stopped. Knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t quite help it, just like he couldn’t help asking,

“My help…?”

“Mmh,” Merlin said and it was awfully, _dreadfully_ sweet, had Arthur’s stomach turning in premonition, had that shiver turning more prominent, more insisting in its warning. “I thought maybe you could help me with my stretches.”

The warning in Arthur’s mind exploded in neon-red bold-faced writing, started screaming at him with a deeply stressed, ’ _No, no, no, Arthur, don’t fall for this, don’t you do it, don’t turn around, just leave, just get out of the door and-_ ’

Arthur turned around to face Merlin, was immediately hit by every bit of mischief on his face, was left to wonder what had gotten into him today, what had made him so _devious_ , so confident and sexy that Arthur felt entirely wrong-footed and really, really, really had to go, really, really had to force himself to say,

“ _Oh_ , um… Well, I _would_ , it’s just that Percy-”

Except then Merlin was _pouting_ , saying a disappointed little,

“Ah… Right,” while his eyes grew impossibly big, grew impossibly _sad_ and Arthur felt like he was kicking a puppy, felt like Merlin really _needed_ him to stay, like he would be in terrible, _terrible_ trouble if he didn’t. Barely knew what was happening when the words,

“Though I suppose…” started tumbling out of his mouth, were followed by a wavering, “If it doesn’t take _too_ long-”

“Doesn’t take long at all.”

The pout disappeared from Merlin’s lips in a millisecond, was replaced by a broad, viciously triumphant grin and then he was going over to the _wall_ , placing his hands on it, _bending over_ again and sending Arthur a look over his shoulder, a horribly flirtatious thing that had Arthur spiraling into despair, had him asking himself how he had let Merlin play him so easily, how in the world he was going to get out of this now.

“What are you-”

“Stretching,” and it was still so _sweet,_ so innocent that it made Arthur a bit angry, sort of made him want to slap that sweetness right off of Merlin’s pretty, pretty face.

“ _Right_ ,” he said instead, a bit of crossness coming through in the tight setting of his voice, “And you need _me_ for this because-”

“Because the stretch will get deeper if you help me.”

_Oh, of course it will._

Arthur hesitated, cursed himself for getting roped into this but couldn’t really back out now, couldn’t really afford to admit why this particular stretch - and was it _really_ a stretch? Was it _really_ something _anyone_ would do if they weren’t _Merlin_ , if they weren’t horribly, outrageously shameless and completely devoid of any kind of concern of what that shamelessness might do to people who were just trying to go to a work-out with their friends, who were trying _very hard_ to keep promises to their siblings that they probably should never have made in the first place - well, he couldn’t really afford to admit why it would bother him so much.

He walked over hesitantly, tried to keep his voice neutral when he asked,

“So… What do you need me to- _do?_ ”

“Just put your hands on my hips.”

Arthur bit back an outraged ’ _What?_ ’, bit back an ’ _Absolutely not, you horrible little slag_ ’ and did that, put his hands carefully on Merlin’s hips like they were blazing hot and he was afraid they might scorch his skin.

He found instead that they felt appallingly good in his hands, that the stretchy, black fabric of the yoga pants was warm and smooth underneath them, found that the _idea_ of holding Merlin like this was as horribly, fantastically pleasing as it was immediately, utterly torturous.

“Mmh,” Merlin hummed, wiggling a bit to get into the stretch, arching his back and mumbling, “Yeah, good, if you could just sort of… _lift_ like-” and Arthur tried doing that, tried to sort of tilt Merlin’s hip to assist his stretch and was rewarded - _punished_ \- with a groan that was positively filthy, that might be genuine (given that it was Merlin) but was still entirely inappropriate for the situation, got especially outrageous when Merlin added, “Yeah, Arthur, _yeah_ … that’s _perfect,_ ” with a little sigh that made Arthur want to cry.

And also to smack Merlin’s backside quite firmly, because this was just getting _mean_ , this was just _cruel_ now, and of course…

Of course, he _knew_ that Merlin probably didn’t realise how much this was affecting him (even if he was most certainly _trying_ to make it affect him). He knew that really all Merlin was doing was _offering_ and for all he could tell, Arthur could just say yes and accept everything being handed to him.

Arthur knew that, he understood all that and _still_ , still he felt like dragging Merlin over his knee, felt like telling him how positively wicked he was being, what kind of things Arthur wanted to do to him when he was behaving this way.

The worst part was that Merlin would probably let him, would probably let him do anything he wanted, even if he wasn’t very nice about it at all.

Even if he let his hands travel down over Merlin’s arse, felt how firm and perfect it was. If he dragged the yoga pants down, peeled them off until they were pooled around his ankles and Arthur could just tell him to _stay_ , could leave to find some lube and a condom, could make him ready right _there_ , right up against the wall, stretching him open while Merlin moaned like he had now, only louder, more urgent, sort of shaky and perhaps he would be a bit overwhelmed, but he wouldn’t say no, would he? No, not Merlin, he would still want it, even if it was like that, even if he was nervous and might send an unsure, questioning glance back towards Arthur, might ask a little ’ _Arthur…?_ ’ and Arthur wouldn’t even have to answer him, could just stroke his hip in a reassuring manner, shush him and keep going, keep opening him until he could position himself and just-

“Arthur?”

Arthur jolted out of the fantasy, snapped his head up to meet Merlin’s gaze where he was looking at him back over his shoulder. He forced down the guilt that started welling up in his stomach, said a bewildered, “Uh, I- Eh… Yeah?”

Merlin’s eyes were crinkled again and he looked a bit amused, sounded a bit playful with his responding, “You’re… You’re holding me a bit- _tight_.”

“Oh…” Arthur said, “ _Oh_ ,” and, _fuck_ , he was, wasn’t he, was digging his fingers so deep into Merlin’s skin, holding him so firmly he might leave br-

_Fuck_ , and he could barely get them off again, had to force himself to peel them off one by one, until he had let Merlin go and was saying an apologetic,

“Sorry, I was… I was just thinking about- _something._ And I got… distracted.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, suddenly looking awfully disappointed, apparently believing - for whatever absurd reason - that Arthur had been distracted by something _else_ , which was good, of course, should make Arthur feel relieved, _of course_ , but made him feel rather sad instead, made him realise that he didn’t really want Merlin to think he was uninterested, didn’t really want him to think he was something he could _possibly_ be distracted from, when he was the sexiest fucking thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Something that’s bothering you?” Merlin continued, standing up and turning around to face Arthur, suddenly _close_ , suddenly all up in Arthur’s face and Arthur had to take a step back before replying,

“Yeah, no, it’s… Well, it’s- _nothing_ , really.”

“Hmm,” Merlin said, his big eyes too blue, too sharp, too analysing as they scanned Arthur for an uncomfortably long while, then finally softened as his mouth curved into a gentle smile and he touched Arthur’s arm, asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

_Yes, Arthur,_ a sarcastic voice sneered in his mind, _Yes, Arthur, please, do go on, talk to him, tell him what you were thinking about, how you wanted to-_

“ _No_ , not… Not really, no.”

“Right…” The melancholy lingered around Merlin’s eyes for a second more, then dissipated as his whole face brightened, as his smile turned into a grin, one that was accompanied by a cheeky, “You know that the whole strong, silent thing doesn’t actually work with the ladies, right?”

Arthur laughed, sudden and sharp, relieved with the subject change, the mood change, the way Merlin could make the world so much lighter with just a few words, with that incredible smile of his that just-

_Oh, fucking hell._

He killed that thought, imitated Merlin’s playful tone to say,

“And you’re an authority on what works with girls, are you Merlin?”

“Oh, _absolutely_ ,” was the quick reply and there was so much confidence in it, so much sparkle in his eye that Arthur was suddenly having a moment of internal, panicked confusion, didn’t reach telling himself all the reasons why he really shouldn’t worry about Merlin being unavailable in _that_ way and found himself asking,

“But you are… You are _gay_ , aren’t you, Merlin?”

Merlin froze, his features going wide and surprised.

“ _Oh._ Oh, well, I… I suppose so. I guess everyone always just assumes so, because of-”

He stopped himself, perhaps realising what he had been about to say, but not stopping in time to prevent the meaning from landing with a solid _thump_ in Arthur’s mind, making his head buzz with a frenzied ’ _He doesn’t even know, hasn’t even considered it, he’s just- Me, only me, I’m the only one he’s even-_ ’, made his head boil, over-heat, shut down, until he was just standing there, staring at Merlin, not having a single clue what to do with himself, how to move on from this.

Then Merlin schooled himself back to neutral in that way he did, said,

“Seriously though, if something’s wrong you should talk to someone about it,” and, adding a bit of playfulness, “Being stoic won’t make you anything but miserable.”

Arthur’s mouth curved up in a soft smile and he forced himself to subdue the dizzying ringing in his ear, to shut all those thoughts up and say a gentle,

“I’ll keep that in mind, Merlin.”

He squeezed Merlin’s arm like Merlin had done his and was rewarded - definitely rewarded - with a sweet smile, a _genuinely_ sweet smile that made Arthur’s insides tingle and warm and really, _really…_

This was getting completely, entirely out of hand in every way imaginable.

“Are we done with the stretches then?” Arthur said, hopeful idiot that he was, and Merlin’s smile immediately disappeared, was replaced with something that had the fluttering in Arthur’s stomach turning searing-hot and agonising, had Merlin saying a sly,

“ _No_ ,” and waltzing over to the yoga mat again, declaring that he had at least two stretches more he wanted to do, demonstrating one by flipping his legs up over his face and then starting to explain the other one, and Arthur - who thought it couldn’t be any worse than pressing Merlin’s legs up over his head - quickly agreed to do that.

He found, however, that it was almost as bad, with Merlin now lying on his stomach, telling Arthur to grab his thigh and hold his ankle up while Merlin pressed his foot down towards the mat. And well, the ankle was alright, of course, but the thigh was pretty damn bad, was far too close to way too many interesting things and potentially sensitive in all kinds of ways, like on the inside where Arthur wanted his mouth, wanted to drive Merlin crazy by licking, kissing, nipping until the skin bloomed purple, until it bore clear marks of Arthur’s teeth and-

And Arthur realised his fingers were digging into Merlin again, greedy and stubborn and _not listening_ when he told them to stop, not _listening_ when Arthur told them he couldn’t afford to show his hand to Merlin, couldn’t let him know how much he wanted this. Especially now that Merlin wasn’t even complaining about the tight hold on him, now that he was just making these little _noises_ that were supposed to be about the stretch probably, but weren’t really. _Couldn’t be_ , Arthur thought, couldn’t possibly be about anything but the way Arthur’s hands were too close to him, the way they kept inching _closer_ , and-

“Is that- Is that enough now?”

Merlin twisted his head to the side from where it was lying in his arms, mumbled,

“ _Hm?_ Oh, yeah, it’s… Yeah, you can- change side if you want.”

He was way too content, Arthur decided, was enjoying this far too much when Arthur was struggling like this. And now when he moved to the other side - after he’d done the first repetition of Merlin’s foot moving from vertical down to the mat - now he let his fingers do what they wanted to, allowed them to sink properly into the muscle underneath and was immediately punished - _definitely punished_ \- with a groan, a filthy, filthy thing that finally made Arthur snap.

He let go of the leg, grabbed Merlin’s waist and rollled him over so he landed on his back with a _thud_. Grabbed one of his legs, drove it up over Merlin’s head in one smooth movement, watched as Merlin’s eyes widened in arousal or in fear or in both. Arthur didn’t know, didn’t really care right at that moment, just felt furious and horny and endlessly frustrated and needed Merlin to be too, needed him-

“You-”

He took a deep breath and, “ _You have to relax, Merlin,_ ” he heard himself say, but it came out strangely soft, came out gentle despite the rushing in Arthur’s ears. Turned out to be exactly what he needed when Merlin melted underneath him, murmured,

“Right, yeah, I’ll… Yeah,”

and Arthur felt himself quiet down too, melted into the same space that Merlin occupied, took advantage of Merlin’s relaxation to press down a bit harder, took in Merlin’s responding whine and let it glide down over his hunger, let it soothe him a little.

“Too much?” he asked, voice still so soft, fingers moving on their own voltion in small, soothing circles, and Merlin shook his head slowly, mumbled,

“No, it’s… It’s a good- _stretch_.”

“Mmh,” Arthur murmured and let his hand travel down a bit, revelled in the resulting, almost imperceptible shiver from Merlin. Drank in the slight widening of his eyes, thought that he had to be hard, wanted to feel that in his hands, wanted to turn his head to look, but couldn’t really, couldn’t cross that line and lose the already-far-too-implausible deniability he was clinging to.

Instead, he just stayed in the stretch, kept up the unrelenting eye contact and felt himself drowning in the way Merlin was softening for him, surrendering to him, felt so fucking high from it too, like he couldn’t possibly get enough, couldn’t satiate until he was holding every last part of Merlin in his hands, until all of his soul was bared and stretched out before him, until every last piece had capitulated.

Which wouldn’t do, of course, which he couldn’t _do_ , of course, so instead he started putting down the leg and went to the other side, put one hand under Merlin’s lower leg and the other under his thigh, slowly moved that one up too, felt Merlin’s dazed gaze on him the whole time, met his eyes again once he’d finished the movement.

“More?” he asked, and Merlin nodded slightly, let out another little whimper when the leg reached its limit and Arthur stopped there, held it and mumbled,

“ _Relax_ ,” felt his fingers doing those little circles again and, “ _Relax, Merlin_.”

And Merlin did, let go a bit more, allowed the stretch a bit more and just… Just looked so utterly _gone_ that it was starting to make some kind of anxiety turn in Arthur’s belly, made him feel like he’d robbed Merlin of his senses, made him feel like he couldn’t possibly be supposed to have all this, couldn’t possibly be _allowed_ to have so much and,

“I really… really have to go now,” he said, still in the stretch, and Merlin just looked a little confused, said an all-too-easy,

“Okay…” like Arthur could have said anything, told him to do anything, and that would have been his answer, just ’ _Okay_ ’, just ’ _If you say so_ ’, just…

“Yeah,” Arthur said pointlessly, lowering the leg and carefully standing up, picking up his water bottle where he’d put it on the floor. He looked back at Merlin, still lying on the mat and not making any efforts to get up.

“I…” he started, but didn’t know what to say, what he _could_ say that would be safe and then, “So… Bye- then,” and forcing his feet to move, forcing himself away, even if it felt horrible, even if he didn’t want to, even if Merlin’s eyes were clinging to the back of his skull, palpable against his hair, his skin, full of the longing that tried to pull him back, to get him to stay.

And _God_ , how Arthur wanted to. _God_ , that pull, that horrible, wonderful pull and the horrible, wonderful thoughts of what Merlin would do to himself when Arthur had left, how he didn’t even have to go anywhere since he was alone in the house, how he could just stay right there on the yoga mat and…

Arthur took out his phone, typed up a quick,

’ _Sorry, ended up getting a bit delayed myself. Going now though. That boxing class is on today right?_ ’

He finally went out the front door, grabbed his bike and unlocked it, jumped onto the saddle and steered it onto the road, pedalling madly, needing to put that energy _somewhere,_ to get away from the house, from Merlin, from every sick, wonderful, messed up, glorious thing he wanted to do to him.

-———-

It was probably for the best that Arthur didn’t know what actually happened after he left.

It was probably good that he didn’t know how Merlin didn’t stay on the yoga mat, but went up the stairs, up to the threshold of Arthur’s room. That he bit his lip there and wavered in the entrance, trying to talk himself out of it, trying to convince himself that it would be a bad, _bad_ thing to do, until his resolve inevitably broke and he let himself fall down in the bed, breathed deep into the sheets to get that half-familiar, lingering scent of aftershave and hair gel, started stroking himself off, muttering, ’ _Arthur. Arthur. Arthur_ ’ and promising, _swearing_ to himself that he would find a way to seduce him, had to, had to, had to have him, had to feel him, had to have that dangerous, deadly thing wrapped up around him, had to be engulfed by it, like he had for a second there, had to lose himself to that, lose himself _like_ that, by Arthur pounding into him, fucking him so thoroughly Merlin might very nearly black out from it, might very nearly break in half from it and-

And, additionally…

Additionally, it was probably very good that Arthur didn’t realise later, when lying down exhausted and spent in his bed, that that faint, unfamiliar thing registering at the edge of his mind, that that intoxicating little whisper of a scent was _Merlin_ , was a trace of his shampoo, had been pushed into the pillow when Merlin’s neck had been arched, had been rubbing his hair into the fabric that Arthur’s cheek was now resting on.

Because if Arthur had known what that was, if he had properly noticed it, he might very well have walked over to Merlin’s house, late as it was, might have asked for Merlin and walked off with him, hauling him into the woods until they were out of sight and he could push him up against a tree, could ask, ’ _Did you wank off in my bed, Merlin? Damn it, Merlin, did you? Did you, Merlin, did you-_ ’

And ’ _Yeah,_ ’ Merlin might have said, shameless as he was, perhaps licking his lips with the wild thing uncurling in Arthur’s voice, the way the rough bark of the tree was scratching into his back. ’ _Yeah, I did._ ’

And then he might have told Arthur _exactly_ what he had done to himself in Arthur’s bed, how he’d imagined it was Arthur doing those things to him, how he’d imagined it wasn’t his own fingers but Arthur’s c-

And Arthur might just have lost his entire, god damn mind. Might have pushed Merlin to his knees and broken his promise right there, might have lost every shred of self-control that he’d been clinging to and just-

Well.

Instead, Arthur went to sleep, had more dreams about Merlin, though they were somewhat less pleasant now, somewhat less tranquil, perhaps because of that scent that _was_ there, the one that part of his mind perhaps _did_ recognise, that might have seeped into his dreams, might have been what filled them with _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin,_ writhing and gasping and endlessly filthy underneath him, so relentless in his desire, so endlessly stubborn and greedy and needy and _perfect_ for it.

Perhaps that’s why Arthur woke up sweaty and flushed the next morning, why he woke up with the furious need to _do_ something, why he eventually ended up going to the gym again, despite the exhausted state of his body, why he worked himself down until he couldn’t think a single thought or habour one single fantasy, until he staggered home and flopped into his bed only to find that his dreams were still haunted.

Perhaps that’s why it took him an entire week to get a full night’s sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy that? :D I hope you did. God knows I enjoyed getting an opportunity to torment Arthur for a change. _Well_ , I guess he was a bit tormented in the last chapter too… Well. I had fun all the same. Also with the fluffy bits :D 
> 
> If you did enjoy it, I’d be eternally, magnificently grateful for kudos and comments <3
> 
> Oh and if you’re thinking „But ww, aren’t we missing two years? What happened to the rest of the flashbacks?” Well, that’s a really, really good point. The thing is, I was enjoying the flashbacks so much that I accidentally made them so lengthy that I had to put them into two chapters. 😬. 😁. It’s gonna be great though, I promise. It’s gonna be cute and frustrated and maybe a little painful at times, and it’s gonna be great.
> 
> Oh also! The stretches Merlin is doing are actually real and were found on the interwebz. If you can believe that. Here's a [ link](https://experiencelife.com/article/partner-stretching/) for proof.
> 
> Okay. Time for me to stop talking. See you in the comments? Yes? Please 🥺 I love comments. SO MUCH. Ok, talking. Stopping with that. Bye. See you soon <3 <3 
> 
> And…
> 
> Thank you so much for reading 💕💕💕


	6. (flickering II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey guuuuys :D <3 
> 
> Did you miiiiisssss me? I know I missed publishing new stuff for you. Do I have an excuse for taking so long with this update? You know, I don’t think I very precisely do. I could say things about my thesis and personal growth and stuff but in the end things just take the time they take and happen as they happen, and I really find that quite okay.
> 
> What I can say though, is that I absolutely love this chapter. It’s no guarantee that you will, I know, but I really, absolutely adore it. Which is very nice, isn’t it?
> 
> And I should maybbeee give you some-
> 
> **WARNINGS:** (as always, for those who want them)  
> * There’s a single scene with a little bit of misuse of alcohol (but don’t get me wrong, none of the characters have general problems with that and it’s no more than most people have probably done)  
> * There’ssss a tiny moment where Arthur loses his self control and shoves Merlin into a wall a little bit (Merlin sooort of wants him to because he’s Merlin)  
> * We’re still one year away from the beginning of the story so Merlin’s 17 and there’s a little bit of fantasising on Arthur’s part  
> * And thennn I should ummm maybe mention the scene that makes me cringe and hide behind a pillow but what can I even say about that one, except maybe Arthur’s a little bit into some pet play and is also sort of a walking disaster sometimes (so avoid it if pet play is a problem for you…?)  
> * There’s a scene with a bit of homophobia but it’s not something I would consider very intense
> 
> Anyways. I have looked so much ( _so much_ ) forward to publishing this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it so, so much. (If you don’t, that’s entirely okay too, of course, no pressure at all, let it be whatever it’ll be to you.)
> 
> I should mention that I use another song. It’s called _Birds_ and it’s by _Kate Nash_ and once again I didn’t write the lyrics. You can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=199imzjtOMc).
> 
> Have fun! And I’ll see you in the end notes <3

- _—— One year ago ——-_

Arthur turned the key to stop the motor of his car, sat back in his seat for a moment to deal with the thundering wave of excitement that immediately crashed over him, flooded his stomach with bubbling joy, had an inane, entirely contaminated part of his brain repeating over and over that he was _gonna see Merlin, gonna see Merlin, gonna see-_

And _Yes, yes, I know,_ Arthur thought with a little sigh as he opened the car door. _Yes, yes, I know. I’m sure it’ll be just_ wonderful.

He paused for a moment as the house came into view, let out a slow whistle because he had to admit that his sister was getting really, _really_ good at this.

There were fairy lights crawling up over the fascade, slowly pulsing in turquoise and emerald like magical vines trying to overtake the building. There were lanterns in every tree of the drive-way, rich goldens and pink-ish reds that lit up the branches spectacularly, made the whole scene look like something out of a different world, like something out of a fairy tale.

And ah, wasn’t that the theme? Arthur thought he remembered that from one of the hour-long streams of gibberish that had been coming out of his phone lately. It had probably been the same call in which he had accidentally let slip that Morgana hadn’t actually _invited_ him to the party Merlin had been ranting about, and Merlin had stopped talking quite miraculously and abruptly, had paused for almost a full minute before he’d told Arthur that he had to go and had hung up on him.

An hour later, Arthur had received a curt text from his sister saying that he could ‘ _come to the party, I guess, if you absolutely must._ ’

Arthur had chuckled to himself, had thought that he wouldn’t. And then he had found himself replanning his entire - rather intense - pre-Christmas study period, had wound up actually sticking to his schedule for _once_ and had eventually, inevitably found himself in his car, feeling like an American teenager going to prom, which was a rather horrifying analogy, because it was a testament to the unsettling amount of sappy romcoms that he had taken to watching ( _very_ privately and _very_ secretly in his own room) lately.

There was some kind of strange duality to the way Merlin was ruining him. On one hand there was this soft, weak-kneed, heart-leaping-in-his-chest-whenever-Merlin-called-him thing. And on the other there were these increasingly wicked, increasingly alarming fantasies where he was tying Merlin up to tease him, to fuck him, hurt him until he was stripped of that brilliant mind of his, until he was all _gone_ , all _Arthur’s_ , and the fantasy would crest and Arthur would find release into his own hand. And then, eventually, find himself drifting back to a very different category of fantasies, like cuddling on the sofa on a lazy Sunday, making Merlin breakfast in bed, watching him play guitar and listening as that wonderful voice wove its way through the notes, pulled Arthur into some kind of spellbound state that surely, _surely_ couldn’t be entirely natural. (Not that that last part was something that ever happened in real life.)

Maybe it was a balance of some sort. Maybe the more that Arthur wanted to ruin him, the more he wanted to spoil him with affection and make sure he knew how utterly treasured he was. Or maybe, _maybe_ , it was the other way around and every bit of affection he felt for Merlin made him greedier, made him want to break him into smaller and smaller pieces until nothing could be kept from him, until _all_ of Merlin would be laid out before him, utterly vulnerable and consumable and-

And Arthur finally managed to shake himself out of his thoughts, to remind himself that whatever the case was, it was all irrelevant for at least one more year.

He headed for the front door.

When he pushed it open, he was met with more twinkling lights, rising from the floor and twisting into the ceiling alongside what seemed to be actual, _living_ vines that he _really_ didn’t understand how Morgana could possibly have set up like that, as if they’d grown right there in this very spot all their lives. There was music as well, fitting the theme with a slow, heavy tempo and strange, fey words that certainly weren’t English, might not even be from a real language, might be from Tolkien’s Elvish or something like that.

Arthur took off his coat and hung it, dragged his suitcase behind him as he walked towards the living room, following the source of chatter and laughter that he could just make out over the ambience. Really, he ought to have gone up to his room with his luggage first but he just wanted to get a glimpse, just a tiny, tiny little taste of what his eyes hadn’t taken in in so long and-

_Oh_.

Just like that-

_There he was._

And Arthur really _had_ been watching too many romcoms because it was—

It was all the air knocked out of his lungs, all the sense knocked from his mind. It was slow-motion and heavy heart-beats and _Merlin_ in some kind of wondrous costume, silks and heavy shades of midnight wrapping around him perfectly like it had all been tailor-made for him (which, knowing Morgana, didn’t seem unlikely). He looked like an elf prince or a fae sorcerer, like something other-wordly and unnaturally beautiful with sparkling tones of sapphire makeup playing around his eyes, with something pink and delicate painted over his lips. He was laughing, bestowing that wonderful smile on someone and Arthur didn’t know if he felt jealous or just filled with so much _longing_ , longing for Merlin to turn his head, just _turn his head_ and see-

Merlin did.

He turned, looked at Arthur and the smile faded into astonishment, into open-mouthed wonder and then it was _hours_ , surely, was an entire eternity of getting lost right there, in the middle of his family home, drowning deep in Merlin’s eyes.

An eternity that was interrupted when Merlin let out an utterly delighted, not-entirely-sober-sounding squeal and ran towards him, positively, actually _jumped_ into him, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck, his legs around his hips, burying his face in his neck.

“You’re _heeere_ ,” was the adorable, drawled-out proclamation and if there had been any question of Merlin’s inebriation, it was certainly gone now.

Arthur didn’t say anything in return, couldn’t really find words or just any part of his brain that wasn’t utterly lost to the feeling of Merlin’s warm body pressing against him, to the sensation of coarse, raven-black hair brushing against his neck, the _perfume_ that was slowly starting to register in Arthur’s mind, sweet like vanilla and cinnamon and fitting Merlin perfectly.

And so Arthur just returned the embrace, buried his senses in Merlin’s being and breathed and breathed and breathed, into Merlin’s hair, into him, into the air they were finally sharing again.

At least he did until something entirely unpleasant came upon them, wrapped a hand around one of Merlin’s shoulders and yanked him forcibly back, back to the ground, back out of Arthur’s arms.

Arthur blinked for a moment, _just_ managed to stop himself from reaching out to get Merlin back and risk getting locked in the world’s most absurd battle of tug o’ war with his sister who was suddenly standing behind Merlin, looking like some sort of vengeful angel in the white robes that were flowing around her, just as magical and strange as the blue fabrics surrounding Merlin.

“Didn’t know you were coming, _brother_ ,” she sneered, glaring at him with that patented Pendragon stare that Arthur had always been deeply jealous of, had never truly mastered himself.

“Well,” Arthur said, instead plastering on the most obnoxious smile he could find, revelling in the resulting half-snarl that curled up on Morgana’s lip. “I couldn’t miss Merlin’s party, could I?”

“You _could_ have,” Morgana muttered, which made Merlin shoot her an angry glare, prod her entirely unsubtly with an elbow. She easily ignored that, continued, “Didn’t you have an exam on Monday?”

“Oh, I do,” Arthur agreed mildly, “But don’t worry-” He shifted his attention to Merlin, pushed some hair out of his face, mostly just to irritate Morgana, possibly also a little bit to feel the way Merlin melted under his touch, the way his eyes shone as Arthur spoke to him. “I made sure to study well in advance so I could take the weekend off.”

Merlin lit up in a brilliant smile, asked,

“ _For me?_ ”

And, _Oh God_ , that _really_ wasn’t fair, how he was being so _earnest_ when Arthur was mostly just being a dick. It especially wasn’t fair how Arthur’s foolish heart was so utterly helpless against it, how it responded by skipping an unhealthy amount of beats and then threw in a dozen extra ones.

“I- um. _Well._ ”

Arthur cleared his throat, fiddled with the handle of his suitcase, resolutely ignored the gleeful, mocking expression that quickly arose on his sister’s face at the sight of his unease.

“I should… I should really take my suitcase upstairs.”

Merlin’s face fell and Arthur internally kicked himself for being such a coward, for always, _always_ being such a coward about this, then started turning away to escape, glanced back over his shoulder for a second to make a hasty promise that he’d be back in a minute.

He rushed up the stairs to retreat into the safety of his room, slamming the door shut behind him and falling into the bed, revelling in the comforting familiarity as it curved up around him, provided a momentary refuge from everything that haunted him. A _very_ momentary refuge that ended all too soon, lasted about half a millisecond before cobalt-blue eyes started replaying behind his lids, before that _smile_ started burning itself so firmly into his retinas he was sure he would never be able to see anything else for the rest of his life. Before the unbounded joy that had played on Merlin’s face, had resonated in his voice started tripping up his heart rhythm, started replaying in his ears, and just—

And just god, _god_ he was just such an _absolute moron_.

And also quite possibly getting fucked over by some sort of cosmic, karmic justice that wanted him to know just what it thought of haughty arseholes like him who thought they could play with other people’s feelings and get away with it. That thought they could play with someone like _Merlin_ , would attempt to take something so bright and shiny and stuff it in their own pocket, hide it away from the world for their own, selfish enjoyment.

Arthur considered for a moment to indulge himself, to bury his head in this newfound conspiracy theory, then abruptly sat up instead, forced himself to cut the pity party short and maybe regain a bit of dignity by actually getting back downstairs after only five, very, _very_ small minutes of retreat.

The mirror was still at its spot beside his desk and Arthur took a moment to look, to re-tousle his hair until the chaos of it was just right, then fidgeted with the dust-green shirt that he’d thought would be the most fairy-tale-ish, that now felt horribly underwhelming compared to the magnificent costumes Merlin and Morgana were in.

_Still_ , he looked good, knew he did, knew the costume wouldn’t matter, not when it was Merlin.

He opened his door back up and walked casually - if forcibly so - downstairs, scanning the living room when he got there and recognised what seemed to be most of Merlin’s high school class, some of his rock-climbing friends and a dozen or two that Arthur couldn’t place. Not that it really mattered, not when Arthur’s gaze had already locked on to what he had been searching for;

Merlin, striking as ever, standing in the middle of a group of people, shining all over all of them.

_Particularly_ , Arthur noticed with great dissatisfaction, at a boy with shaggy, brown hair and a shirt that seemed unnecessarily low cut, a boy that - Arthur had seen him once before actually, couldn’t quite find his name - was _drooling_ all over Merlin, giggling at the things he said and twirling his stupid, _stupid_ hair between two fingers in a way that was probably supposed to be charming, was just _irritating_ and _dumb_ and _stupid,_ if you asked Arthur.

He felt his hands curl into tight, whitening fists at the sight, felt his teeth grind against each other, felt the corruption in his blood (the one Merlin was obviously constantly supplying him with) sky-rocketing towards some critical point, after which he was bound to grow claws and sprout a tail, feel his teeth sharpen until he could part his lips and snarl menacingly enough at the boy to make him learn not to _want_ for things that _weren’t his_.

Arthur took a deep, shaky breath.

He took another.

He forced his hands to relax, forced some semblance of civilisation, of _sanity_ back into his brain.

Then he forced his feet to move and made his way over to Merlin’s group, smiling politely (hopefully, trying to at least), even resisted the urge to slide a hand around Merlin’s waist and draw him in so, so close.

And Merlin - wonderful, lovely, obliging Merlin - noticed him immediately, turned to him with a wide smile and a bright,

“ _Arthur!_ Hello again,” and, _oh_ , he really was a bit drunk wasn’t he, with smudges of red painted over those marvellous cheekbones and Arthur sort of wanted to lick it off, to lick the _colour_ off, which didn’t really make much sense, was exactly the kind of thing that was to be expected given his current proximity to Merlin.

“You’ve met Gwaine, right?” Merlin was asking then, pleasant and gesturing towards the slutty, little tart who was watching Arthur warily, clearly unhappy with the loss of Merlin’s attention.

And well, Arthur tried, he really did, to keep the ice out of his voice, to keep himself from glaring, to not act like the beast he felt like when he shifted his gaze, said,

“ _Yeah_ ,” and knew immediately that he hadn’t succeeded from the brief look of alarm that moved over Gwaine’s face, from the little half-step he took backwards. Arthur couldn’t quite help how that made him bristle with satisfaction, how the ice settled properly in his voice, crept into his eyes when he broadened his shoulders, widened his frame, continued, “Yeah. _We’ve met._ ”

Merlin didn’t seem to notice it. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

He just nodded amicably, indifferently at Arthur’s confirmation, then turned fully towards him, gifted him with such single-minded, dedicated attention that Arthur’s madness faltered, gave way to a pleasant, weighty sense of possesion that settled in his gut, dragged him back to the ground.

A slight spark of wickedness was rising in Merlin’s eye and _oh,_ Arthur was all for it right now, delighted in it when Merlin leant in closer, asked low and seductive if he’d “ _had any champagne?_ ”

Arthur smiled easily, replied that he hadn’t and the mischievousness spread, crawled beautifully out across Merlin’s face.

Merlin made a quick excuse to his friends, grasped Arthur’s hand and started pulling him away from the group, giving Arthur just enough time to glance over at Gwaine and see how wonderfully irritated, _exasperated_ he was starting to look, to do what he could to bolster that by sending the wanker his best, meanest _you-know-he’ll-never-be-yours_ smile before Merlin dragged him away, seemingly towards the kitchen.

It was a zig-zaggy, messy route to get there, Merlin crouching down, shifting through the crowd, looking around every corner before they went and generally, very obviously dodging the party’s hostess, probably astutely aware of how much she would approve of whatever it was that they were doing. When they got to the kitchen - strangely undecorated and familiar compared to the rest of the house - Merlin rushed over to a collection of crates piled in the corner, rummaged through them until he made a triumphant sound, stood up and pushed a champagne bottle into Arthur’s hands. Next he went to the fridge - over-filled with beer, ciders, all kinds of party snacks - and grabbed a large, red plastic bowl. He turned back to Arthur and said, comically serious, like he was giving Arthur a mission briefing,

“We need to get to our jackets. So we’ll have to go through the living room one more time.”

“ _Understood,_ ” Arthur said, copying his grave tone, schooling his face into a grim expression and _just_ refraining from making a little salute when he tagged on a curt, “ _Sir._ ”

Merlin grinned, wide and toothy, mumbled a fond, little,

“ _Shut up,_ ” before he grabbed Arthur’s hand again, pulled him back into the boisterous crowd, got almost half-way through before exclaiming an almost-loud, “ _Shit!_ ” and pushing Arthur behind the huge, almost two meter tall speaker that stood lined up against the left wall.

Arthur suppressed a giggle, felt some kind of buzz kick in, felt suddenly giddy and fourteen and sneaking out of the house to go to his first party at Percy’s. Felt Merlin’s body so close, all lean and warm and perfect, felt how his sensibility (and quite honestly his _morality_ ) was lowered again, made him listen as a myriad of wicked possibilites started ticking into his horrible mind.

He stood still for a little while, watching Merlin scan the room. Then he leant forward to whisper,

“ _Where are we going, Merlin?_ ” and felt the shiver that elicited, felt really fucking pleased about it too, especially when Merlin turned to answer him, seemed to realise how close they were and promptly ran out of things to say.

Arthur gave himself a moment to savour him like this, gently ran his fingertips over the front of the costume to feel the velvety, dark-blue material under his fingers. Then he sank those fingers into it, took a step forwards, away from the speaker, towards Merlin, and turned them, gaining enough momentum to spin Merlin and push him into the solid wall of it where he’d just been standing himself, hard enough to make the air rush out of Merlin’s lungs, which, well-

Well, it was a little _mean_ , possibly (felt pretty fucking _great,_ possibly), somewhat because of the force behind it, more because of how wide-eyed Merlin became, how breathless and hungry and _perfect_ he looked now.

Arthur scanned the room as Merlin had done, found no immediate sign of Morgana but pressed closer all the same, whispered,

“ _Stay— still._ ”

He leant in to hover his mouth just over Merlin’s ear, continued, “ _She’s right-_ _there_ ,” and Merlin froze up completely, shallow breaths brushing against Arthur’s ear, slight tremble vibrating deliciously through his thin frame, so pleasantly, perfectly palpaple through the extensive contact Arthur currently had with it.

Arthur placed the hand still holding the bottle on Merlin’s left shoulder, the other on his right hip and pressed him firmly into the wall, found _just_ enough mercy in himself not to drive a thigh between Merlin’s legs and feel the erection he had to be sporting by now.

“ _Almost gone,_ ” he murmured, tracking an imaginary Morgana with his eyes, tracing Merlin’s hip bone with his thump, hoping it would come off as a distracted, mindless gesture, instead of the deliberate thing it was.

Then, after a slow moment more, he grabbed Merlin’s wrist, whisper-shouted,

“ _Move!_ ” and dragged him out onto the floor, navigating the crowd as Merlin had done, actually keeping a sharp eye out for Morgana now, not wanting to run into her anymore than Merlin did.

They made it through though, all the way to the hall where they hastily put on their jackets, hats and gloves before opening the door and rushing out into the unnatural pink-red of the front garden.

As soon as they were outside, Arthur felt the adrenaline bubble burst and broke into a fit of giggles. He couldn’t help it, hadn’t done this in _so long_ , hadn’t felt this young in _years_ , and Merlin seemed to be struggling not to join him, looked full of pushed-down smiles and barely-stifled laughter when he grabbed his arm and dragged them the last two hundred meter distance around the house, behind the first row of trees in the garden where they would finally, certainly be safe.

Arthur let the last barrier down then, thought he could vaguely hear Merlin joining him as he laughed, leant up against a tree for support, let his giddiness loose into the garden’s comforting cover of darkness.

When he started settling down, he looked up to find that Merlin had settled already, found him staring at him with a fond, only _slightly_ exasperated look in his eye.

“That was _ridiculous_ ,” Arthur stated happily, and Merlin just gave him a soft smile, agreed with a little,

“ _Yeah_ ,” seemingly not entirely recovered from Arthur’s little stunt in the living room. And well-

_Well_ , in the spirit of keeping him that way, Arthur took a step closer, said a smooth,

“ _So…_ ” which made Merlin swallow, bite his lip, fidget with his hands until he answered with an almost solemn,

“ _So,_ ” with such wide eyes, with so much _hope_ on his face that it almost made Arthur feel a little guilty.

_Almost_.

Arthur took one more step forward, let the tension stay for a second more and then—

Then he cocked his head, raised his brows, elaborated,

“Soo… _Where are we going?_ ” which made Merlin blink and look adorably, endearingly confused with his following,

“Oh.”

He looked down on the bowl in his hand - full of glistening-wet, striking-red strawberries, Arthur saw now - and the champagne bottle in Arthur’s.

“ _Oh_ ,” again and then his eyes sharpened, his smile widened (even if it looked a bit flat around the edges) and, “It’s this way.”

And he turned on his heel, started walking further into the garden.

Arthur stood still for a second, then followed, barely noticed the little sliver of guilt that danced around the back of his mind before it was pushed down and washed away by the thrumming euphoria of the power-high, the childish thrill of running through the house like that, the anticipation of wherever they were going, whatever Merlin had planned.

He watched as Merlin weaved his way through the garden, stubbornly ignoring every path in favour of jumping over bushes and hopping through flower beds in a way that would’ve had Elsa (the gardener) screaming with white-hot rage. He seemed to be gradually speeding up and Arthur found himself wondering what the hurry was, at least until Merlin looked back over his shoulder with a big grin on his face, challenged him with a cocky, “ _Do_ try to keep up, will you?”

Arthur barked out a surprised laugh and sped up, almost managed to catch up several times only to be thwarted by Merlin abruptly turning, outmanoeuvring him far easier than Arthur would’ve liked. They went further and further into the gardens like that, stumbling, almost falling over roots and bricks and bumps, past the lake and through the collection of marble sculptures that even Arthur had to admit were a little over the top (‘They’re not _over the top_ , _Ar_ thur, they’re _ridiculous_ ’, ‘Shut up, _Mer_ lin’), all the way to the edge of the garden. Merlin infuriatingly reached it ten meters before him, and Arthur had to take a moment with his hands on his thighs to catch his breath while suffering Merlin’s also-slightly-out-of-breath-but-still- _very_ -annoying,

“Getting— _old_ , are we— Pendragon?”

Arthur looked up to glare at him.

“I am— _not_. I didn’t know— where we were going, did I? It was— _hardly_ a fair fight.”

Merlin shrugged excessively, didn’t lose an ounce of his self-satisfaction or his smug grin as he walked over to the fence, put two hands on top of it and swung his body over in a far too smooth, far too gracious curve. Standing on the other side, he raised a questioning brow at Arthur and Arthur scowled, walked over to the fence and tried to mimic Merlin’s movement.

He _did_ get over.

It was _not_ graceful.

Merlin laughed over him, offered a hand to him (where he’d landed on his _arse_ ), and Arthur pointedly ignored it, stood up on his own, felt grateful that he’d at least managed not to shatter the bottle still clutched in his hand.

“Are we nearly there?” he asked, sounding a bit more sullen than he’d intended to.

“ _Yes_ ,” Merlin said slowly, impudently, still smiling easily and stepping closer, sparing a short moment to unnecessarily dust Arthur off, giving him a glance up through his lashes that very nearly drained all the petulance from Arthur’s (otherwise rather impressive) reserve. “It’s right up there.”

He turned again, started sauntering through the trees, ducking under branches he was clearly well-familiar with, making his way up the beginning slope while Arthur trailed behind.

When they made it to the top - the slope had turned out to be the start of a small hill - Merlin stopped, turned to Arthur, face full of barely-concealed, utterly-overpouring excitement.

“Are you ready…?”

Arthur quirked a brow, asked a would-be dry, unintentionally curious,

“For _what?_ ”

Merlin just smiled wider, put his hands on Arthur’s arms and turned him around with one quick, decisive movement.

And _fuck, okay_ -

It was fucking _beautiful_.

The garden sprawled out under them, the careful layout that was so indecipherable from the ground turning into clear, intricate shapes that swirled around each other, painted a precise, planned out picture, was lit up by strategically placed lanterns that Arthur had never given much thought before. Behind that, the house positively glowed with magic, pulsed faintly with thrumming music and behind _that_ , the rest of the town started appearing, faint glows of houses and cars, people going about their evenings and…

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur said, voice full of wonder, “It’s— _Wow_.”

Arthur turned to look at him and Merlin looked _radiant_ with joy, utterly beautiful up here in the faint, yellow light from below and any sense of pettiness or jealousy or wickedness seemed to just evaporate like rain drops before a blazing sun, were all too easily replaced with warm, aching longing for everything that Merlin was, everything that-

Arthur took a deep breath.

One more, one more and really, _really_ he had _got_ to get a grip on the exuberant language his mind was employing tonight.

He turned back to the view, slowly mused,

“I never even knew it was here… Has it- Has it _always_ been here?”

Merlin was silent for a moment before asking,

“This _hill…?_ ”

“Well-” Arthur did some quick recalculating, the result of which had him laughing softly at himself, blushing _very_ little before muttering a, “ _Never mind,_ ” and turning back towards Merlin without looking him too directly in the eye.

Merlin let out a little snort, sat down in the frosty grass with a dry,

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

Arthur grinned, sat down next to him, bumped Merlin’s shoulder with his own and drawled,

“You think I’m pretty, _Merrrlin?_ ”

Merlin rolled his eyes, gestured for the champagne bottle.

“Everyone thinks you’re pretty, you dork,” he said, making it sound impressively like an insult, then took the bottle as Arthur offered it and started fiddling with it, pealing the shiny, aluminium foil off the cork.

“Mmmh well-” Arthur hummed, leaning back on his elbows and taking in the view before them. “No, you know what, that’s… That’s probably true.”

He could see the little smile that crept up on Merlin’s face at that, the way he subtly shook his head. He was twisting the thick metal thread now, untangling it and dragging it upwards, freeing it from the cork.

“Do you ever have problems with doors, Arthur?”

“Doors…?”

“Yeah, like… getting through them.”

Arthur drew back for a moment, watched as Merlin pointed the neck of the bottle between them, pushed the cork upwards until it went with a loud _pop_ , shot off into the trees below them, dragging a little spurt of champagne out after it.

“Well-” Arthur paused, tried to figure out what the joke was but couldn’t really. “No?” he tried carefully, “I think… I think even my shoddy mind can manage that.”

“Ah well-” Merlin was smiling already, wonderfully _amused_ with himself already, “I was thinking more how your massive, _massive_ head might not always fit through.”

Arthur tried not to laugh, failed, picked up a stick and threw it at Merlin, watched as he dodged it easily, grinning like he thought he was so very, very funny.

“ _Shut up_ , _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin turned his head to look at him, was smiling broadly, happily, not quite as cheekily as Arthur would have thought. He held out the now-open champagne bottle and Arthur took it, drank a healthy swig, relished in the luke-warm, straight-out-of-the-bottle, utterly perfect taste of it as it bubbled through his mouth.

He handed the bottle back but Merlin shook his head slowly, mumbled something about having had a lot already and, _oh_ , alright, that’s how it was then, it was get-Arthur-drunk-and-see-what-he’ll do. It was an ambush, a plan of attack, and unfortunately Arthur knew _exactly_ what he would do, knew how this ended, could too easily flash-forward to the complete catastrophe that was him alone with Merlin, drunk and urgent, trying to get Merlin’s clothes off, to get him out of his mind, to get him-

Arthur put down the bottle, asked an only slightly stilted,

“So ehm— Good party?”

Merlin gave him one of those quick glances, those analysing, terrifying ones like x-rays beaming through Arthur’s body, going through skin, through bones, all the way into the soul, spilling all his awful secrets into the unforgiving world.

“Yeah,” he answered, absent for a moment before going on with, “Yeah, it’s been really good. Morgana’s bloody amazing at this.”

“That she is.” Arthur half-turned towards Merlin, quirked an eye brow to go along with a slightly teasing, “Sure she won’t mind you ditching it like this?”

A wicked grin spread out on Merlin’s face, narrowed his eyes, fit perfectly with the sly drag of his voice when he purred,

“Oh, _she’ll mind_.” He turned properly towards Arthur, held the eye contact in that painfully steady way of his when continuing, “We’ll just have to make it back— before we get _caught_.”

It sounded so unbelievably, fucking filthy that Arthur had about two milliseconds before his brain was swarming with vivid imagery of just what kind of things they might get caught doing, that he almost found himself _regretting_ having taunted Merlin, found himself sparing a wistful thought for the days when Merlin’s strongest form of attack had been pushing an armful of snow into his face.

“So um-” Definitely stilted this time and Arthur even had to go through an awkward little cough before managing an awfully un-segued, “So— So how’s college?”

Merlin looked at him for five seconds, raised a brow like he was slightly worried about Arthur’s mental capacity, like he was about to start talking to him very, _very_ slowly.

“ _You’re_ the one who’s going to college, Arthur.”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed, nodding lamely like an absolute imbecile, wondering for a frustrated moment _what the hell was wrong with him_ before managing to go on with, “Yeah, no, I just meant you— _You’re-_ _going_ to college- _soon_ , so— So, how’re you… How’s it going with _that?_ How are you… _feeling_ about that?”

“Ah, well-” Merlin sounded doubtful, _looked_ doubtful, gave him another of those eviscerating glances before taking mercy and accepting the diversion with, “Well— Mixed, I guess.”

He leant back like Arthur had before, looking into the distance with a thoughtful, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it actually. I thought last time over the phone that I would but then we- Well, never mind that, what I mean to say is, I- Was it… Was it _hard_ , leaving all your friends and everything behind? It seems like so much change all at once. Sometimes I’m… I have this thought that I’ll get washed away by it. Like everything will change around me and I’ll hardly even— even _know_ who I am when everything around me is so new and different.”

“Oh.” Arthur mirrored Merlin’s movement, went down on his elbows and looked into the horizon, feeling his mind shift with the new, heavier topic. Feeling an urgent instinct to tell Merlin not to worry too, an urge to draw him in and tell him that no matter what changes were coming, no matter what challenges he would be facing, he wouldn’t be alone in them, would always have- _Well_.

Well, _besides,_ he was _Merlin_ and how could _Merlin_ even be worried about something like that when he was so— When he was-

… but he- _wasn’t_. Was he?

The sugar-sweetness was dripping off his features, leaving behind a crinkled brow and a bitten lip, leaving Merlin unfolding like he rarely did, into something open and unfiltered, something unselfconscious that felt like such a privilege to behold, was so often hidden behind easy smiles and sharp remarks.

“It- _was_ ,” Arthur said slowly, fumbled for the right approach before trying with, “But it was— _exciting_ too. I think it helped a lot that I moved in with Leon right away, had someone so familiar close to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, sounding a bit crestfallen and _ah, fuck, that wasn’t-_

“But you’ll— I didn’t mean that _you_ won’t be- because you won’t— Because, I mean, you _will_ , right? You’re… You’re coming to Oxford, right? Morgana said you were.”

Merlin looked at him again, eyes wide and blue and so damn pretty they were clearly eroding Arthur’s ability to form clear sentences.

“Yes,” he said softly, “Yeah, I am.”

“Then-” Arthur swallowed, tried not to give too much away with his following, “Then you won’t be alone, because— Because you’ll have- _me_.”

The light sparking in Merlin’s eyes turned blinding, achingly bright and Arthur had to look away.

There was a stretch of silence, of Arthur’s words hanging sweet and heavy between them. Then Merlin shifted, murmured,

“I brought strawberries too.” He picked up the bowl, held it out for Arthur to take one. “If you want one.”

Arthur looked them over, found his gaze locking onto the largest, reddest one, small water drops glistening slowly in the moon light.

“Thank you, Merlin. I do.”

-———-

Arthur fucking _loved_ beating people up.

And oh, maybe— Maybe that sounded a bit bad. Maybe it sounded a _lot_ bad, and maybe if Arthur were to be perfectly honest, maybe it _was_ kind of bad, maybe he did spend a bit too much time thinking about Merlin and riding crops and Merlin and paddles and Merlin and canes and Merlin and that shiny, heavy leather belt Arthur had just bought that— But really, _really_ that was besides the point entirely because the point was-

The point was that Arthur loved _this_.

The point was he loved being put through inhumanely hard drills, burpees and push-ups and pull-ups until he was sweating so much it was pearling on his skin, dripping into his eyes. He loved sparring with his mates afterwards, challenging his opponent with a straight punch to their stomach, an uppercut to their jawline or a roundhouse kick to their ribs. He loved the mixture of strength, instinct and tactics that went into this, how his heart pounded, how his whole world boiled down to just this moment, just this dodge, this jab, this adrenaline-soaked state of being that made his world simple in the most beautiful way.

He loved how afterwards there was a sense of calm within him, a sense of almost, _almost—_

Almost.

Arthur sighed as he turned the key and went into his house, into his room, dropping his bag and plopping down onto his bed, thinking for a brief moment that he should maybe have showered first, gross and sweaty as he was, but then— Then he was just too _tired_ , too very-nearly-sated to really take that seriously and instead took out his phone, spun it around in his hand, stared at it.

He opened Merlin’s contact.

He went out of it again.

He scrolled through facebook, went through a few pictures of Percy’s new puppy, made little cooing noises that noone else was going to hear _ever_ , made plans in his head to drop by and see it next weekend, left a heart reaction and- And he went back to that contact, eyes flickering over the stupid selfie Merlin had stolen his phone to take once, a wide, I’m-not-supposed-to-do-this-and-I-like-that grin plastered all over his pretty, mischievous face. He looked at that magical little phone symbol next to the picture that could so easily be pressed by a straying finger, could so very, _very_ easily…

The phone said its initial _boop_ and Arthur almost dropped it, almost lost his courage and stopped it from properly ringing, hesitated that one moment too much and it went on to the steady _beep beeep_ that lasted only a single round before it was interrupted by,

“ _Arthur?_ ”

Merlin’s voice was tinny, familiar, reassuring.

_Surprised_.

Arthur paused for a moment, tried to think, to plan this out before ending up just going in with a simple,

“Yeah?”

“ _Did something happen?_ ”

“… No?”

“ _Oh. Okay._ ”

Arthur hesitated for a moment, didn’t know exactly what to do now, was slowly coming to the realisation that Merlin usually took charge of these things, was usually halfway into a rant before Arthur had even picked up his phone.

“ _You_ call _me_ all the time,” was all he managed, even after that little pause and _honestly,_ this was just getting _ridiculous_.

“ _Er yeah. Do you… Do you want me to stop doing that…?_ ”

“No…? _No_ , I just- It just shouldn’t surprise you so much, yeah?” Arthur looked at the wall to his right, had a vague impulse to thump his head repeatedly against it. “That I would call you, I mean. When you… When you call me all the time.”

“ _Oh._ ” And, “ _Oh, so you just- You_ really _called_ _just_ _to chat?_ ”

Arthur let out a little sigh, hesitated again, took a brief moment to ask himself that same question before conceding to them both that,

“Yes,” and, “Yeah. I did.”

“ _Oh_.” Another little pause and Arthur was starting to become genuinely worried that they wouldn’t be able to navigate out of this terrible awkwardness when, “ _Well,_ ” and, “ _So today at school-_ ”

Arthur felt a slow smile rise on his lips, lay down on his bed, tucked his phone under his cheek, pulled his blanket up and drifted into a cosy half-sleep, let himself just _listen_ as the comforting chaos of Merlin’s erratic storytelling washed over him, brought the last pieces of his mind to sweet, easy rest.

-———-

The tv flickered, changing scene and flinging a new range of colours out over the room, dramatically lighting Merlin’s lazy, sprawled-out form where he was half-sitting, half-lying on the couch next to Arthur.

It was bad today. Every little movement across Merlin’s face captured Arthur’s attention, every little twitch of his hands made his bones ache, his blood boil. The light was painting Merlin in blues and whites, colours giving contrast to his sharp features, making him look just as ethereal and beatiful as he had at his birthday party, even without the makeup and the clothes and the general buzzing, wondrous magic of that evening, proving that he could shine just as brightly in his worn-soft, grey hoodie and coal-black track pants as he could in silks and custom-fit costumes.

He was watching the tv intently, deeply focused in a way that was nice because it enabled Arthur to watch the tv less and Merlin more, incredibly frustrating because the scene was that dirty one from Sherlock where Irene Adler was prancing around all naked and taunting, trying to rattle Sherlock, giving even Merlin a run for his money with her easy provocativeness and endless cheek.

Arthur really should have known better than to let Merlin pick the channel. He also should have known better than to stay after Morgana and Gwen had gone upstairs (Morgana giving him a sharp look as she went, of course, but going all the same), should have known better _today_ especially, erratic and hungry and barely-held-together as he was. But Merlin had looked at him, all hopeful and doe-eyed and Arthur’s heart had done this _thing_ and…

And here he was, foolish and longing and _horny_ from his general, reckless mood _and_ from the increasingly outrageous scene. Irene was _stabbing_ Sherlock with some kind of needle now, _drugging_ him apparently and _slapping_ him and… and _hitting him repeatedly with a riding crop_ and Arthur felt his fists tighten and alright, enough, _enough_ , Arthur didn’t need this, _Gods_ how he didn’t need this, _not today_ and,

“ _Merlin_ ,” he said, aiming for casual and failing quite splendidly, tension spilling into his tone even if he tried to keep it out, tried to find somewhere between commanding and indifferent when following up with, “Give me the remote.”

Merlin looked up, away from the close-up on the screen (the close-up of the riding crop _dragging_ over Sherlock’s cheek), let his eyes glide over Arthur’s face, mild irritation at the interruption quickly giving way to something uncomfortably defiant and curious. Something uncomfortably _hungry_.

“No,” he said, tone serious and slightly sweet, though more uncomfortably than alluringly so today. “No. This is the best part.”

_Well fuck._

Arthur felt himself take a sharp, deep breath, tried to fight everything that welled up in him at that challenge, everything that wanted to answer, that growled and snarled and rose up from the slumber he usually managed to keep it in.

“ _Merlin_ ,” he said, feeling his hands starting to tremble lightly even as his voice grew steady, grew full of a threat that felt all too real today, contained far too many things that Arthur did, didn’t want an excuse to do. “Hand it over. _Now_.”

“No,” Merlin said again, so easily, thoughtlessly (or perhaps rather, far too _purposefully_ ), taking the remote from the table in front of him, holding it back, away from Arthur. “No, if you want it…” He tilted his head, spun the damn thing once in his hand when he finished with, “You can come get it.”

Arthur took another sharp breath, sat still for a charged couple of seconds, whole body thrumming with an energy he didn’t know how to contain, an energy that eventually broke through, forced his legs to straighten out, had him towering over Merlin, looking down at him with an expression that _surely_ couldn’t be misunderstood.

Merlin stood up too, slow and measured, some sort of shakiness mixing into his confident expression now. His eyes were just a bit wider than they should be, his pulse speeding up which _really_ Arthur couldn’t know, but it was like he could _hear_ it, like he could _see_ the _thud-thud-thud_ in the vein at Merlin’s wrist, pumping his blood around like he was a frightened, little rabbit and Arthur-

_Oh_ , Arthur was the beast that had wanted to punch Gwaine just for _looking_ at him, the monster that frightened his sister ( _that frightened himself_ ) and he was- was gonna-

He could barely contain that continuation, could barely have put it into words if he’d wanted to, barely _knew_ and knew it all too well. And so he just took one step after another towards Merlin, like a big, heavy ship with unchangeable momentum, heading straight for the iceberg it could never have navigated past.

Merlin stepped back in response, swallowing slow and fearful, _delightful_ with the way he was clenching the remote hard, biting his lip and-

He was almost at the wall now, feet shuffling back slowly and Arthur couldn’t let him just back into it, wanted _more_ , _needed_ something _more_ , and so he took a quick step forward, reached out with a hand that found hold in Merlin’s t-shirt and _shoved_ , shoved _forcefully_ , _too_ forcefully, felt a roar of satisfaction at the loud _thump_ that sounded when Merlin hit the wall, when the breath was knocked out of his lungs.

“ _I said_ -” he growled, moving closer, closer still, pressing into Merlin like he was trying to crush him against the wall, the hand in his shirt moving to the left so Arthur’s arm could press into Merlin’s chest, could threaten his breathing. “ _Give me— the remote._ ”

Merlin trembled, wonderfully, whole body moving against that arm, trembled when he shook his head, whispered a terrible, barely-audible, still-so-unmistakable-so-utterly-unyielding,

“ _No._ ”

And Arthur’s insides went wild, went hungrier, blood-thirstier, yelled and yelled and yelled at him to _do something_ and he had to _breathe_ , had to find something, _something_ to hold on to, _something to do_ that wasn’t _too much_ , wasn’t over the line (over _another_ line, at least) and he reached out for Merlin’s hand, blindly to the side, still staring at his face. He found it, wrapped his own around both that and the remote, squeezed _hard_ and then harder, harder, harder until he could see it on Merlin’s face, until Merlin let out a shocked, sharp little gasp and the remote fell to the floor with a sharp _crack_.

Arthur felt his own breath stutter, felt the heavy, delectable rush of pleasure that burned through his blood, then the onslaught of guilt that followed right after, white-hot and angry with its seething, accusing, _you hurt him, hurt him, HURT him, you fucking idiot, you-_

And he took a step back, stumbled back, stared at Merlin and waited for the retreat, for him to finally, _finally_ look like he could take this seriously, like he _understood_ how bad this whole thing was, how _dangerous_ and-

And it didn’t come.

It just _didn’t_.

Merlin just stood there, tall and beautiful and terrifying and so fucking _stubborn_. His eyes were sharp, serious, entirely unapologetic, so dark in the dim light Arthur could’ve sworn they were pitch-black, and Arthur’s guilt lost some of its momentum, gave way to a frustration, an anger that Merlin never knew when to _give it up_ , that he had to always, always _push_ , that he was so… _so_ …

“You always were such a fucking _brat_ , Merlin,” he snarled and after a short moment Merlin almost _smiled_ in response, one side of his mouth curling up in a terrifying grimace that made Arthur feel a little sick, made him stumble another step backwards. It was such a strange sight, that mixture of fear and confidence, that certain, shaky sound of Merlin’s voice when he said a stumbling,

“Yeah- I’m—” He pushed off the wall, took back the steps Arthur had removed himself with, was all up in his face when he took a breath to brace himself for doing something stupid, something like saying, “I’m _rude_ and _cheeky_ and terrible and someone should really- _someone_ should probably-” He took another shaky breath, a half-step more, very nearly brushed their noses together when he murmured, “ _Someone should probably teach me a lesson_.”

A shiver ran down Arthur’s spine, settled low and aching, _cramping_ in his stomach, fever thundering through his body as his mind exploded with all the ways he could do that, could bend Merlin over his bed and beat him mercilessly with a belt, could push him to his knees and slap his stupid, insolent face until he was crying and begging, could bite down hard in his shoulder while he moved between his legs, fucking him so hard he’d be struggling just as much with that as everything else Arthur would do to him and-

And in the end it all just sort of boilt over into a frustrated rage and he grabbed Merlin’s arm hard, yanked him back towards the wall as he bit out,

“ _Someone_ probably _should_ ,” before turning on his heel and storming out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

-———-

“ _Arthur, whatever you did, you had better fucking fix it._ ”

Morgana’s voice was slightly fuzzy over the phone, still chock-full of that inexorable determination, the unstoppable tidal wave of will that was his little sister.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, sank down into his desk chair, heard the old leather squeaking slightly into the quiet room.

“ _He’s been miserable all week, he’s been—_ Merlin _has been miserable. Do you understand? When Merlin is sad he’s- still smiling but he’s been—_ sulking _, he’s been_ brooding _and- and-”_

“I’ll call him.”

There was a pause, a second barrage of words that lost their reason to be uttered, filled the silence between them instead.

“ _You will?_ ”

Arthur sat up, drummed his fingers against the wood of his table, over the sheets of paper strewn out on it.

“Yeah… I’ll- I’ll call him right now.”

“ _Oh. Okay, well— Good._ ”

Another stretch of silence and Arthur was just about to open his mouth, to give another reassurance, to ask how bad Merlin had been, if he’d really, truly been _miserable_ and-

“ _Bye then_ ,” Morgana said and then she was gone and Arthur was left with his thoughts and a new promise to keep and proof, _proof_ that if things went wrong between them, Merlin wouldn’t take it well, he wouldn’t easily recover.

Proof that mattered to Arthur and to his sister. And not to Merlin.

Arthur knew it well, knew it especially now that he had gotten a glimpse of the true face of Merlin’s determination, the _depth_ of it, and behind the terrifying quality of knowing there was nothing he could do to stop this, no way to dissuade Merlin, there was something nice there too, some kind of relief that it wasn’t just Arthur who was very occasionally, not entirely a good, gentle person all the way through.

He stared at the econ homework in front of him, wondered if he could procrastinate for ten minutes by pretending to study, but then- He had told his sister _now_ and now was not in ten minutes and so there was really nothing to it.

He sighed again, a bit deeper this time, a bit more _self-pitying_ this time, went into Merlin’s contact and found himself in a by-now familiar staring contest. The little blue phone symbol had overall gotten less daunting over time, but he hadn’t talked to Merlin at all since that night (had in fact taken off, gone back to Oxford early the next morning like an absolute _coward_ ) and in that week it had managed to grow both arms and legs and a rather terrifying set of teeth. It was good, really, that Morgana had called. That she had given him a little push, just enough external pressure to hold his breath, let his finger hover over the icon and then-

Merlin didn’t answer quite as quickly as he usually did, but eventually there was a slightly too loud, fairly awkward,

“ _Arthur! Hey_.”

“Hi,” Arthur answered, soft, and then paused because he hadn’t actually thought this through, at least except for the many, _many_ times that he had, but well- He hadn’t thought it through right _now_ , right before this _actual_ call, and so he just stumbled on with an unsure, “Um, I- I just wanted to apologise for… Well. You know what, I suppose. I wanted to say that I’m— _really_ sorry that things got so weird and-”

“ _You’re not mad at me?_ ”

“… What?”

“ _You’re apologising. Aren’t you mad at me? I thought you… You can tell me, you know. If you’re mad._ ”

Arthur rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose, pinching it like it would help him concentrate, would help him know the right answer. Or just the truthful one.

Was he mad? He _had_ been mad. Then he’d been sort of cycling back and fourth between guilt and anger, between frustration and mad desire, but in the end, he just…

He just _shouldn’t_ be mad. He’d pushed Merlin into a _wall_ and _he_ shouldn’t be mad.

“No,” he decided, “No, I’m not mad, Merlin, I’m… I was… having a- _bad day_. But it’s no excuse, it really isn’t, and I’m _so sorry_ that I got so—”

“ _I know. I mean, I_ knew _that you were and I just- I didn’t— I could’ve-_ should _have… Well._ ” Merlin paused, sighed heavily into his end of the call. _“For what it’s worth, I’m— sorry too. Even if you’re not mad. I’m really sorry._ ”

Something settled in Arthur’s chest at that, even if he very definitely hadn’t blamed Merlin for things that could only ever be his own responsibility and he leant back in his chair, pushed the wall under the desk with his feet, made the chair tilt slightly backwards.

“Well, alright. Then… Then, if we’re both sorry, maybe we can just- forget about it and…”

“ _Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that_.”

Arthur smiled, felt some kind of relief roll down over him, picked up his eraser and tapped, dragged it over the arm of his chair.

“Cool. So um… So- how’ve you been then?”

“ _Oh, um- Good._ ”

A lie, Arthur knew, but it didn’t matter too much, was mostly just a path away from the line between talking about these things and _talking_ about them, and Merlin mirrored with a, “How are _you?_ ” and oh, Arthur was fine too, yeah, and mmh, what was Merlin doing this weekend? Anything interesting?

This particular pleasantry turned out to be a bit of a gold mine, because apparently Merlin had been roped into playing at some kind of open mic thing by Gwen and Morgana, and Arthur suddenly had a wild thought about making a spontaneous trip home that weekend, before realising that,

_a)_ Merlin was bound to eventually become confident enough in Arthur’s interest in him to properly confront him if he kept being so painfully obvious about it and,

_b)_ Arthur had a test Monday and he was really, very much going to quite possibly fail it if he spent the whole weekend with his mind in fluffy, pink places where math was laughably insignificant.

Instead, he asked Merlin if maybe Gwen was going to film it and whether she might send the videos to him. This turned out to be a very good question too, had Merlin’s joy flowing warm and fluttering through the phone, into Arthur’s ear, into his chest where it curled up in a space that had been empty and waiting that whole, long week.

-———-

Arthur couldn’t stop _humming_.

It was a problem. He hadn’t even watched those stupid videos that many times and still they were burned into his brain like so many things Merlin-related, had all been toggled on repeat, repeat, _repeat_ and Arthur was pretty sure he knew all the lyrics by now, all the little details too, like what Merlin said in between songs, at which places he laughed, every little note that went wrong or went just exactly _right_.

Also, Arthur was a terrible, wicked liar and he had watched each of those wonderful, _mesmerising_ videos at least a _hundred_ times, which was just another damning piece of evidence that Merlin had very definitely ruined him in some horrible and entirely irrevocable fashion.

He had just finished classes for the day, had chatted with some classmates afterwards, was now heading home through the city, _humming_ , and feeling overall bloody ridiculous and completely, unreasonably happy with his mind stuck on a couple of verses from one of the songs Merlin had performed, a completely nonsensical, rambling, utterly _Merlin_ thing that felt as much as an insult as a love declaration, was some kind of strange story about a girl and a boy who had just been reunited at a train station and-

_And so they ran out of the station and jumped onto a bus_

_With two of yesterdays travel cards and two bottles of Bud_

_And he said “you look well nice”_

_Well she was wearing a skirt_

_And he thought she looked nice_

_And yeah, she didn't really care about anything else_

_Because she only wanted him to think that she looked nice_

_And he did_

_But he was looking at her, yeah all funny in the eye_

_She said “come on boy tell me what you're thinking_

_Now don't be shy”_

_He said alright, “I'll try-_

_All the stars up in the sky_

_and the leaves in the trees_

_All the broken bits that make you pop_

_all the grassy bits in between_

_All the matter in the world_

_that's how much that I like you”_

_She said “… what?”_

_He said “let me try and explain again”_

See, it was a bit of an insult, wasn’t it? Listening to it kind of made Arthur want to pick up the phone and tell Merlin quite firmly that he wasn’t actually so daft that he couldn’t see what was very clearly right in front of him, _thank you_ , it was just that- that things were _complicated_ and _diffult_ and-

And, well- Well, _obviously_ , he couldn’t do that.

And so instead he just replayed, replayed, replayed, didn’t even entirely need the videos anymore, could recall the visual right alongside the music; Merlin in the heavy blue lights of the stage, smiling and joking and looking _so damn pretty_ while he played, so goofy and happy with the silliness of the song, so comfortable up there, easily enchanting everyone in the room. And every time Arthur watched, rewatched, recalled, he had this thought that Merlin had been singing for _him_ , _just for Arthur,_ knowing he’d be watching it later. He thought it, hoped it, very nearly, almost quite certainly knew it, thought maybe it would’ve been easier to put those videos away if that thought hadn’t been in there too.

He looked up, focused properly at the stores he was walking by, possibly trying to distract himself a little bit, only to realise that (because the whole world was _very clearly_ against him) he was walking by a _music store_ , one with a faded, azure-blue guitar in the window.

Arthur could swear it was like he went into a trance sometimes. Like one moment he was standing outside the store, watching the window, watching the guitar, imagining Merlin playing it, long, clever fingers strumming those thin steel wires, clever mouth forming beautiful words—

And the next he was standing at that same spot but with the guitar in his _hands_ and a significant amount of money missing from his credit card, cursing to himself and wondering what the _hell_ he was going to do with a _bloody guitar_.

-———-

Really it’d been a long time coming. Really, they’d barely been a proper couple for a long time, really it hadn’t _meant_ anything for a long time, not really, hadn’t properly been a part of his life and still Arthur felt…

Maybe it’d just been a nice thought. That he wasn’t technically single. ( _Available._ ) Maybe going with her sometimes and being her little trophy, maybe that had done something for Arthur, had made him feel needed in some way. Maybe in the end it had just felt a bit pointless and maybe he should’ve had the guts to do this a long time ago and-

“Was it bad?” Merlin was asking softly, legs outstretched next to him on the bed, trying to sound serious, like he hadn’t been _radiating_ joy from the moment he stepped into the room.

Arthur frowned a bit at the blank wall in front of him, shrugged slightly and— _had it been bad_.

It was a little bit funny, almost.

_Had it been bad_.

_Well_ , it had been Sophia screeching, loud and angry that,

“We’re not even _exclusive_ , Arthur, why would you even- You can see all the girls you want, you know, it’s not like _I_ care and don’t think for _a second_ , for _one second_ that I believe you haven’t already been taking advantage of that so _why_ -” She had paused, looked at him like he was a great, irritating puzzle, one that she was absolutely determined to solve. She’d let her tone shift, had drawled, “Are you _in love_ , Arthur, is that it? Did you actually find a girl who matters to you?” An unsettling grimace of a smile had plastered over her face and she’d continued, mocking, “Or is it that _kid_ , that _boy_ who’s always slobbering all over you, what’s his-”

“ _Don’t_.” Arthur had felt his jaw tighten, had fruitlessly tried to fight against it, tried not to let that facade slip, but- “ _Don’t_ talk about Merlin that way.”

Sophia had frozen, had looked at him again, investigation giving way to awed realisation and, “It _is_ , isn’t it. Oh my God, Arthur, I was _joking_ , but you’re actually…” She’d paused, gaze shifting, eyes sharpening like she was seeing him in a whole new light, seeing him as a whole new person. “You’re actually _gay_ , aren’t you. You’re a _poof_.”

Arthur had turned to look her properly in the eye, had felt the tension seeping into his frame, the threat rising in the air around him when he’d asked a dangerous,

“I’m a _what?_ ”

And maybe it was that Sophia knew that Arthur had a gay sister. Maybe she knew exactly how he felt about homophobia, knew how Jimmy Kendall had gotten that black eye in third form when Morgana had had her first crush. Maybe that’s why she’d had enough sense not to repeat that word, why her attitude had crumbled a little and she’d said a small,

“No, I’m… I just mean- I guess it makes sense. I just didn’t _think-_ I thought you were…”

“That I was _what?_ ”

Sophia had also had enough sense not to finish that thought, had looked just on the cusp of actually being ashamed of herself.

Almost. She’d puffed up her shoulders, said a curt,

“ _Nothing._ ”

Then she’d reevaluated with a slow, horrible, “You know… It doesn’t really matter, actually. No-one knows, right? So we can just-”

“Get out.”

Somehow it had been worse, that brushing-it-aside, and Arthur had just felt small and horrible and like he just really needed her-

“What…?”

She’d given him this incredulous look like he was being completely unreasonable, like he was so horribly unkind to her, but Arthur didn’t care, _shouldn’t_ care, had to just get her- had to insist that she-

“Just… Just _get out_ of my _house_.”

She’d huffed, rolled her eyes like Arthur was being dramatic, given him this look like he’d be back again within a week and then-

Then she’d been gone. So many years and now she was just-

Gone.

Arthur had sat down on his bed, put his head in his hands and felt time just sort of drift until he’d heard the door open again, had been just about ready to start yelling if she hadn’t gotten the message yet but then-

Then it had been Morgana. Unexpected and leaning up against the doorway, a surprisingly reassuring sight at that moment. A reassuring presence too when she’d come to sit next to him on the bed, putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder before asking a quiet, only slightly awkward,

“Well, I’m… I’m guessing that’s over then?”

Arthur had snorted, had tried to lift his face from his hands and found that he wasn’t quite ready to face the world yet.

“Heard all that, did you?”

His voice had been muffled, mouth pressed against his palms and there’d been a squeeze to his shoulder, accompanied by a hesitant,

“When I— When I came out. We didn’t really talk much about it.” Morgana had let out a little sigh, shifted restlessly on the bed, sat a little closer to him. “But I always had this feeling that you— Well. I was never in doubt that you supported me. And I need you to know… This whole thing with Merlin. You have to know it was never about that.”

“I know,” Arthur had murmured, glancing up to see her serious expression, how she looked forward, into the wall when she did a slow nod and,

“It’s not that I… It’s not that I don’t think you deserve better, either. You’ve _always_ deserved better than her. You’ve always been more than… It’s just that— It’s _Merlin_.”

She’d looked at him with this ‘do you know what I mean?’ and Arthur had known, _gods_ how he had.

“Can’t you just… Do you _really_ have to—”

“Yes.” Arthur had fallen silent for a moment, had wanted to explain, known he couldn’t, had still tried with, “It was never… It wasn’t my _idea_ , you know. And he’s… He’s so _unbelievably_ stubborn and he’s never going to let it go, and _I_ can’t let it go, can’t let _him_ go when… When I know how he wants me and I—”

Arthur had taken a breath, waited for the emotion to sink and settle inside him again. Had heard Morgana asking a small,

“But what if it… What if he can’t— Arthur, he’s never-”

“I know.”

There’d been silence again, heavy and painful like the clamp tightening around Arthur’s heart and then there’d been a small,

“What if it _doesn’t work?_ ”

So well-known, if not in this context, repeated so, so many times in Arthur’s own head, and still all he had been able to say, all he could _ever_ say was a useless,

“ _I don’t know._ ” He’d heard his voice break a bit with it, had tried to make it surer when he’d repeated, “I don’t know, ‘gana.”

Another stretch of silence had spun out between them, and Morgana had broken it by saying a defeated,

“But you have to try,” that had sounded almost understanding, _almost_ like she got it. Maybe if she loved Merlin a little less, maybe she could have.

“Yes,” was all he’d been able to say, and, “Yes. I have to try.”

She’d let out another sigh, had let herself fall backwards so she was lying on her back, her feet still on the floor. Arthur had raised his head to look at her for a moment, slightly surprised to see her like that, hadn’t done this with her since they were kids. Then he’d lain back to join her.

“He’s coming over,” she’d said to the ceiling, not sounding entirely happy about it.

“Merlin…?” Arthur had tried to contain his immediate excitement, had tried to sound just a bit more unconcerned with his following, “Now?”

But it was a lost battle of course, he was entirely too obvious, of course, and Morgana had done a little roll of her eyes, had smiled a little, like she thought he was a bit sweet, a bit stupid.

“Yeah he’s… We were supposed to watch a movie.”

“Oh,” Arthur had said, not entirely sure why she’d brought it up, already unreasonably hopeful, already thinking maybe, _maybe_ she’d follow up with something wonderful, something like-

“But you know, he might— He might prefer to watch one with you.”

Arthur had bit his lip, had wavered between an eager ‘ _Yes, yes, he probably would, please, please, can he do that- can we, can we, can we, please, today of all days, it would just be- I would really, really-_ ’ and a more polite, quiet,

“I’m sure that’s— not true.”

Morgana had snorted loudly like the elegant lady she was, had said,

“Oh _please_ ,” while turning her head to look at him with narrowed eyes. “I just figured… I could go to Gwen’s. Merlin could come here. You could—” She’d turned her head away again, looked up while she waved a hand in front of her with the following, “ _something_.”

“ _Something…?_ ” Arthur had answered and maybe _accidentally_ it had come out a bit dirty, maybe he’d been grinning a bit, maybe a little wide, maybe he’d entirely deserved it when she’d punched his arm - “ _Ow!_ ” - and said a sharp,

“Not _that_ , you absolute _twat_. Something _innocent_.”

“ _Innocent…?_ It _is_ Merlin we’re talking about right, because- _Ow, ow, stop, I’m-_ ”

Arthur had clutched his arm where Morgana had pinched it, had pouted at her with a sulky,

“ _God_ , I was just _kidding_.”

Morgana had just given him another sharp glare from where she’d been propped up on an elbow, had said a serious,

“I still have five months,”

and Arthur had let the pout go, had let himself be equally serious with the answering,

“I know. We’ll just- watch a movie or… _something_.”

Morgana had nodded, had sat up completely and gone still for a few minutes. Then she’d gotten up with a murmured,

“He’ll be here in like— thirty minutes,” and had headed for the door.

Arthur had sat up too, had watched her get almost all the way out before managing a little,

“Morgana…?”

She’d turned around, looked at him with a questioning expression.

“I— Thank you.” Arthur had looked down at his hands for a moment, back up with a sincere, “I appreciate it.”

Morgana had smiled then, sweet and rare, like she mostly did with Gwen, sometimes with Merlin. She’d murmured a little, “Yeah, no problem,” and then disappeared, leaving Arthur with his thoughts.

And now Merlin was here. And it was great, it _really_ was, but Arthur had been analysing, replaying, maybe-slightly-torturing-himself-with that conversation with Sophia, had maybe spiralled into a rather bleak direction a time or three, was maybe feeling sort of like someone had run him over with a truck, a rather big one, and-

“Was it bad?” Merlin was asking and _yes, yes Merlin, it had been bad_ , it really rather had, and Arthur just sort of frowned, shrugged, and Merlin seemed to get properly concerned then, put an unsure hand over Arthur’s, giving a gentle squeeze like a quiet, ‘I’ll take that as a yes’.

Arthur let out a deep sigh, slumped a little, and that was enough, Merlin was there, moving closer, offering a shoulder for Arthur’s head, stroking his hair gently with his almost-whispered, endlessly reassuring,

“ _It’s alright. It’s alright, Arthur._ ” Arthur felt his chest tighten and, “ _You’re okay. I’m here, I'm_ right here _and you’re okay._ ”

There were tears prickling in his eyes then, threatening with a vulnerability he couldn’t quite afford, not now, not yet, and Arthur turned his face into Merlin’s neck and breathed, reaching inside himself to find surer ground, trying to put a bit of it away for later, for when he’d have more time and space for it.

They stayed like that for a while, Merlin just sitting there, petting his hair while Arthur leaned on him, and eventually he’d calmed down enough, solidified sufficiently to say a muffled,

“I wanna watch a movie.”

Merlin’s voice was soft, indulgent when he answered,

“ _Alright_.” His fingertips trailed down to Arthur’s neck, caressing softly and Arthur wasn’t entirely sure that that transgression was for his sake and not for Merlin’s, but he didn’t really care much either way, wanted Merlin as close as he could get him right now. “What do you wanna watch?”

Arthur shrugged a bit, shifted on Merlin’s side, drew closer to him, revelled in the heat of his body.

“I dunno, just… something good.”

“Something _good_ ,” Merlin repeated, smile in his voice and that was wonderfully warming too, made Arthur press closer still, say a slightly muffled,

“ _Yes_ ,” with his face mushed into Merlin’s shoulder, t-shirt texture under his lips. “You can pick something.”

“Oh, I can, can I,” and it was cocky, of course, but still said so incredibly gently, so softly that Arthur didn’t have to react to the challenge in it. He found, however, that that was nice too, that it made it easier to smile a little, to tease back with a,

“Yes. _You may_ ,” almost managing to make himself sound haughty.

“Mmh,” Merlin hummed, gliding a finger over the shell of Arthur’s ear, letting his fingertips press into the top of his neck, exploring, almost massaging carefully. “Just something _good?_ ”

Arthur nodded into him, added, “And… And _snacks_ , maybe.”

“Snacks...?”

Arthur smiled again, mumbled, “Yeah, I want… Popcorn. And hot chocolate and— and _ice cream_.”

Merlin let out a little chuckle, said an unimpressed, “ _Ohhh_ , is that all?

“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur said, mostly because he honestly couldn’t quite come up with anything else but then tagged on, “But only ‘cause… ‘cause I’m being _nice_.”

Merlin laughed, the sound like sunshine and clear, sparkling water, and Arthur ached and lightened, felt Merlin’s joy mirroring in himself and sat up, suddenly so close to his face, so close to every little curve, every mirth-fueled, happy-curled crinkle of it, close enough to look deep into the ocean-blue of his eyes and Arthur stared and lost himself and-

And loved him.

_Gods_ , how he loved him.

“Well,” Merlin said, looking at him and smiling, gentle mischief playing somewhere behind the affection that was overtaking Arthur. “I’d better get on with that then. Before you— change your mind and all.”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Arthur said, breathless and a bit out of it, only just remembering to be obnoxious with a shaky, “Yes, you’d- You’d better.”

Merlin cocked his head for a moment, searching, held the eye contact for a second too long and then— Then he scooched off the bed, pausing for a moment to make a little half-bow, to hide a stupid, wide grin like that, directing it towards the floor, accompanying it with a mockingly subservient, “I’ll be right back, _your highness._ ”

And he slid out the door.

Arthur heard himself let out a weak chuckle, then just sat there, staring at the spot Merlin had disappeared from, wishing he’d never asked for anything so Merlin would still be right there next to him.

-—-

Arthur jolted at the small _clack_ right next to his head, opened his eyes, saw Merlin turning to look at him.

“ _Were you sleeping?_ ”

His voice was low, like he would have been more quiet if he’d known, and Arthur shook his head slowly, even if he thought he probably had.

Merlin smiled, slow and indulgent, maybe a little worried, sat down on the side of the bed, upper body turning towards Arthur as he half-whispered,

“ _You can sleep if you’d like._ I don’t mind.” His smile curved up a bit, turned a bit crooked when he added, “I’ll just eat all your snacks myself.”

Arthur smiled weakly in return, tried to remember exactly where he was, what they were doing, had vague memories of ordering Merlin around and-

And worse things, much, _much_ less pleasant things that he’d rather let lie for now.

“Couldn’t have that,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep as he sat up on the bed, reached for one of the cups of hot chocolate that had woken him, revelled in the heat as it pressed into his palms, then brought the cup up to his face to inhale the sweetness, the slight hint of spices that Merlin liked to add.

“Mmh _,_ ” he hummed contently. “This is perfect, Merlin. Thank you.”

Merlin’s smile turned brighter, sweeter, at least until it turned playful and he tilted his head down a bit, put on that fake deference and looked up through his lashes to say,

“Always happy to serve, _m’lord_.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, shoved him with a knee, (tried to ignore the slight tingle of arousal moving down his spine) and grumbled,

“Yes, well, just— Just come back to bed, will you.”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound like that. He really hadn’t.

Merlin’s brows lifted immediately and his mouth opened, no doubt to say something horribly cheeky, and Arthur felt almost like he was gonna _blush_ and-

And then Merlin’s expression shifted.

It was a subtle thing, really, something about how his eyes sharpened, how the curve of his mouth went a bit flat, but Arthur knew it well, knew it meant trouble. He knew Merlin was considering if this was his window of opportunity, if Arthur’s momentary vulnerability was what he’d been waiting for, if he could pounce now and finally have what he’d wanted. Arthur felt his breath catch a little, tried to muster enough energy to keep his promise for just _five more months_ but knew it was futile, knew he wouldn’t have the strength to say no, that he would melt under Merlin’s hands if he took him like this.

But then-

Then the moment seemed to pass, the gentleness came back to Merlin’s features and Arthur heard him mumble that he’d be right back, just needed to get the rest of the snacks from the kitchen, saw him disappear into the hallway again.

Arthur let out a heavy exhale, slid down an inch with his cocoa and felt deeply grateful (slightly disappointed) that Merlin was good enough (cowardly enough) not to take advantage.

-—-

“ _Ugh,_ I hate those guys.”

Arthur squinted disdainfully at the screen, watched as the soldier that Sophie had very nearly bumped into started talking to her, towering over her, talking _down_ to her and overall just being completely fucking intolerable.

“Yeah, they’re fucking creeps,” Merlin agreed, muffled through his chewing, throwing another handful popcorn into his mouth because he was apparently averse to talking without having his mouth full. “That one kinda looks like you.”

Arthur frowned, turned to look at Merlin with an affronted huff.

“He does _not_. And if I’m anyone, I’m _obviously_ Howl. You _do_ know his last name is _actually_ Pendragon, right?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, didn’t bother to move his gaze from the computer where it stood on the bed in front of them. “Mmh, isn’t that just an alias? Like Jenkins is.”

“ _Both_ of those are his last names, Merlin, _honestly_.”

Arthur glared half-heartedly at Merlin’s unconcerned face, considered for a moment to say something about how he really didn’t know _anything, did he_ , was maybe a bit too distracted by Merlin’s relaxed frame, splayed out over the plush pillows they had stacked against the headboard. He just… looked so _warm_. And so _soft_ and-

And, _Oh, fuck it. Today of all days, fuck it_.

Arthur moved, removed the inches that separated them, scooted further down on the bed to put his head back on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin froze for a moment, muscles stiff where Arthur leant into him, then he shuffled a bit, wiggled his right arm out from between them and put it back in Arthur’s hair, still for a moment before it started stroking softly, cautiously.

Arthur let out a low sigh of contentment, watched as Sophie and Howl descended slowly into the city square, felt himself melt into the contact with Merlin, paused that process for a moment to reach forward and get the blanket where it was crumpled at the foot of the bed, pulled it up over both of them.

“I’m just saying-” Merlin mumbled, a moment later, hand experimentally brushing the shell of Arthur’s ear, searching again for the boundaries of this arrangement. “You’re not exactly the lanky wizard type, are you?” He handed Arthur the popcorn bowl he was gesturing for and Arthur opened his mouth to protest that statement, mostly on principle, was stopped when Merlin added, “ _Although-_ Throwing a tantrum over someone rearranging your hair products? _That_ I could see.”

Arthur couldn’t quite help smiling, made up for it by jabbing Merlin in the stomach with his elbow, smiled a bit broader when Merlin made an indignant squawk of protest.

“Shut _up, Mer_ lin _,_ ” he drawled, threw a handful of popcorn into his own mouth and let himself get swept away by the magic of the movie, by the Witch of the Waste arriving in Sophie’s shop, insulting her, lighting up in a mad smile when Sophie talked back and then flew through her, cursing her with heavy, unrelenting age.

-—-

“ _Arthur. Are you awake?_ ”

Arthur was. Sophie had just bullied Calcifer into cooking bacon for her and honestly Arthur could probably have stayed awake for the whole, incredible thing, it was just… Just that his eyes had slipped for a moment, mostly because he was so _warm_ and _cosy_ and content that it was pressing into the very center of him, into every last little bone and fibre, every last curve and crack, and he’d wanted for a moment, just a _moment_ to let everything else go and just _feel_ that and he should probably say something now, should open his eyes and make a comment on how he certainly had the pretty, blue _eyes_ to be Howl (nevermind that Merlin did too) and the golden-blond hair (nevermind that Howl spent most of the movie with something much more near Merlin’s colour) but then…

Then he didn’t. He shifted a bit, kept his eyes closed, tried to relax his muscles completely, to sink into Merlin as much as he could.

Merlin waited five minutes, still and quiet, then turned down the tv, carefully extracted himself and started to pull, to manoeuvre Arthur gently down until he was lying flat on the mattress. He paused for a moment, then shifted around, managed to arrange them to his liking, to roll Arthur over so he was lying over Merlin, head on his chest, arm over his stomach, body pressed against Merlin’s side.

Arthur could feel Merlin breathing like this. He could feel his chest moving up and down, the slow, certain beat of his heart, how it thumped against the shell of his ear and-

And faking sleep was quite likely the best idea he would ever have.

Letting Arthur have Merlin for the evening was definitely the nicest thing his sister had ever done.

And when Merlin whispered sweet, soothing nonsense into his hair while running his hands through it, while caressing his arm, when he pressed his lips gently to Arthur’s temple-

Refraining from opening his eyes and kissing him properly back had got to be the hardest thing Arthur would ever have to do.

-———-

Day drinking was bad.

It was horribly, atrociously _bad_ and no one even _remotely_ sensible should ever be stupid enough to indulge in it.

But-

Arthur had been at this bar, right, with some friends from a new course at uni, and well-

Maybe he’d been a _little_ frustrated, maybe he’d had a lot of things floating about his horrible mind, maybe some of them about Merlin and maybe he’d tried to warn himself, thinking,

_This is how alcoholism starts, Arthur. You drink to forget and eventually you find you can’t bear to remember._

It had felt very wise, that. But then there had been a round of shots and another and another and it was hardly a problem, if _everyone_ was doing it, right…?

Right. And so, Arthur had indulged in that first round and the next and the next and gotten well and fully plastered at just about two in the afternoon, was now staggering home at about five, concluding to himself that, _yes_ , it was, _in fact_ , a problem, it was horribly _wicked_ and horribly _weird_ being this inebriated, whole system buzzing and turning while all these perfectly normal people were just going about their day, going home from work probably, striding comfortably through the uncomfortably bright sunlight.

He passed through a series of shops; A tailor, a supermarket, a hairdresser and finally a more interesting-looking thing with an old, wooden sign reading ‘The Cat Palace’ with faded blue letters, intricate and finicky with a gold outline over a dark green background. Arthur found himself stopping by the window, vaguely hoping to see some cute kitty and then-

Then the devil himself, _surely_ , had put aside some time to play with him because there were all these… these _collars_ laid out in the window display and they were for _cats_ of course, Arthur _knew_ that, alright, he knew, he _knew_ , was maybe drunk and stupid but not _that_ stupid, only…

Only, in Arthur’s mind they might as well have been a selection of terribly filthy sex toys because all he could think about was that one fantasy with Merlin in a collar, was Merlin in cat ears, licking the top of his own hand and crawling slowly over the floor, purring and… and really, _really…_

_Really_ , so much for the promised escapism of alcohol.

Arthur peaked at the door, because he _was_ stupid and honestly expecting ( _hoping_ ) that the store was closed, but of course the king of hell who personally oversaw Arthur’s misery, that made sure he never missed a _single_ opportunity to get in trouble had been at work again, had made sure that there was a large sign on the well-crafted door, informing the world in bold, red letters that the store was in fact ‘ _OPEN_ ’.

Arthur tried to stop himself for about half a moment, but then… It would have been hard enough on a good day, he would have been _stupid enough_ to _do this_ on a good day and today he was _drunk_ , damn it, and so it was hardly even his fault if his feet carried him through the doorway, triggered the tinkle of the small, brass bell that hang above it.

Stepping inside felt like travelling fifty years back in time. The furniture seemed to be some kind of heavy walnut, well-kept and shiny despite the age it had to be carrying, ranging from a pair of plush, scarlet armchairs in one side to the various beautifully crafted cages that were arranged around the store, some hanging down with colourful birds inside, some stacked on the floor, containing what seemed to be everything from rabbits to hamsters to a single, little hedgehog in a corner. As Arthur closed the door behind him, the harsh flash of daylight disappeared, wrapped the room in the dim, yellow light of the large, ornate lamp in the ceiling, the collection of deep-green lanterns that hang down in delicate chains at various heights.

Arthur gave a little sigh of relief as the light dimmed into something kinder, finally got to see some damn kittens when he discovered what had to be the reason for the name of the place; A large structure over on one side of the room, featuring what seemed to be a collection of scratching trees arranged in a castle-like structure, little groups of them piled together to resemble three tall spires. About five or six kittens were tumbling around inside, some of them clumsily climbing the towers, some of them lazily drowsing on the plateaus sticking out from them.

Arthur stepped closer, let himself get lost in the details of the creative construction, possibly also in its fluffy residents who he immediately took to finding names for; Snowy for the white, blue-eyed one, Archie for the jet-black one, Fudge for the soft-looking, golden one, Stormy for the grey one and Dottie for the-

“Can I help you young man?”

Arthur froze for a moment, then straightened up from where he definitely hadn’t been cooing at Stormy, trying to stop her from fighting Archie for the fluffy little mouse toy they had taken simultaneous interest in.

“Uh-” he said intelligently, giving himself a quick, internal slap, along with a decision that if getting wasted at endless, endlessly tedious fundraisers with Leon and his sister had been training for anything, would ever be _good_ for anything, it had to be for this. “Yes,” he said, almost firmly, making a last, half-hearted attempt at stopping himself from doing this before going on with, “See, I’ve gotten this… _kitten_.”

He looked away from the palace-thingy, up at the store clerk who turned out to be an older gentleman in a shiny, emerald vest with deep silver streaks in his white, combed hair.

“Have you?” the man said, kind-faced and smiling, “ _Well_ , that’s lovely. What’s its name then?”

“It’s um-” Arthur paused, clearing his throat, tried to recall _any_ of the dozen pet names he could’ve sworn had just been floating about in his head, naturally ended up just blurting out, “ _Merlin_. He’s called eh- Merlin.”

“ _Merlin_. Oh, that’s a unique name, isn’t it?” The man paused for a moment looking thoughtful before he said, with a little wink in his eye that would have been quite charming, had Arthur really been talking about a proper cat, “Must be quite the magical little creature.”

“Eh-” Arthur stammered, regretting this more and more by the second, shuffling his feet and trying to push down the unwelcome awareness of how utterly creepy this whole thing was. “Yeah, he’s- Well, he’s… quite a _handful_ , to be honest.”

And now he was apparently trying to have a heart-to-heart with the sweet, old man who thought Merlin was a kitten. _Great_.

The store clerk smiled gently, expression turning knowing in a way that it _really couldn’t be_ , because Arthur was fairly certain that if he really _knew_ he would have thrown Arthur out or called the cops on him or _something_.

“Ah yes, they can be, can’t they? Is he scratching a lot? Biting?”

Arthur was half a second too slow to catch the pained, hysterical snort of laughter that made it out of him, brought a hand up to his face in a weak attempt to hide it under a cough, heard his voice come out unnaturally high when he replied with a hasty,

“ _No_ , he’s- It’s—” Arthur fought to find anything to say to make this horrible conversation stop, ended up just letting out another little cough and, “I um— I need a- _collar_.”

The clerk - who had been looking at Arthur rather strangely doing his little mini-breakdown - lightened up, said,

“Well, of course! We have a whole selection. What would you like? Something blue, perhaps? How big is he?”

_Oh shit._

“Oh um— Actually he’s-” Arthur bit down an urge to rub his hands over his face in agony, instead stumbled through a nonsensical explanation of how _actually_ , he- he already _had_ a collar he could use _now_ , _actually_ , while- _Merlin_ was a… _kitten_ and uh, it was just that- that he needed one for when he grew older. Yes, that was it. And he was of an uh- rather large species, so-

The clerk smiled in understanding, said something about how Arthur liked to be prepared, did he, (Arthur answered with a pained smile and _oh_ yes, careful planning, that was _all him_ ), brought out a range of larger collars, one of which was kind of stretchy and _pink_ and Arthur felt sort of dizzy and pale-faced when he said that yeah, that one, yes, he’d like that one.

After that, Arthur tried to pay and leave but, _apparently_ , there was the matter of the tag, because he had been dumb enough to answer that no, he didn’t have one already and subsequently had to listen to a miniature lecture about how actually, _sir_ , tags are required by law in case your kitten ever goes outside, so it can be brought back to you if it gets lost or causes trouble. Arthur plastered on another smile (he was sure they were getting stiffer and stiffer by the second), and said that alright, _alright then_ , he would get a (bloody) tag too, but he- he _really_ couldn’t put his name and address on because (he was pretty sure that that was bound to lead directly to his inevitable, inescapable doom)- because he had just moved, see, and couldn’t really remember the name of the new place and so he would just have to come back to have that side done another day. The man reluctantly accepted this, eventually handed Arthur a gold-covered, heart-shaped tag with large, bold letters spelling out ‘ **MERLIN** ’ and Arthur was filled with equal amounts of endlessly uncomfortable arousal and downright sick-making guilt.

He stared at it for a moment, possibly a moment too long, feeling the warmth of the newly-engraved metal, feeling like he’d been given a piece of an impossible dream - a perverted, wicked dream, maybe, but still a good one, still _his_ \- to hold in his hand.

Then he cleared his throat, gave it back to the clerk who put it in a bag along with the collar, wished him luck on ‘taming the little beast’ which had Arthur very nearly smashing his head into the cashier’s desk, blushing furiously before he hastily said his goodbyes and rushed out of the store.

He speed-walked a few blocks, feeling like he was fleeing the scene of a crime (and _oh, Pendragon, it’s a damn near thing this time, isn’t it_ ), before he allowed himself to stop, to melt against a blank wall in an alleyway and have a much-needed little meltdown.

-———-

Arthur flung another shirt out of his suitcase, thought _no, no, no wrong, it’s not the right one, it’s_ -

He managed to stop himself for a moment, took a breath, wondered why he’d packed _so much_ in the first place, when he’d known he’d only be here for a day or two, knew he wouldn’t _need_ this much, but then he’d been wrapped on in all this damn planning, in all these what-ifs, had had this inane thought that if he just planned _enough_ then things would have to work out.

And he had _planned_. Gods, how he’d planned and planned and planned it all over and over and over, not always entirely willingly, had so many plans that he had to be ready for pretty much every single turn of events. Which was a bit of a joke, really, was a bit like going into a hurricane with a lasso and saying you were entirely sure you could catch it. And still, Arthur was going to try.

He was going to put his game face on, was going to come at Merlin so hard he wasn’t gonna know what hit him, that he was going to melt him down and _stay that way_ , nice and easy and pliant until he was already well and properly fucked. Surely, not even Merlin could be trouble _after_ he’d been fucked.

Which was a bit of a joke too, Arthur knew, he _knew_ , _alright_ , but he had to tell himself _something_ , had to _believe_ something that would make this whole thing seem more doable.

It hadn’t been supposed to- _start_ yet anyways, he had promised Morgana to stay away from her party (the _last_ party as she’d dramatically called it, like Merlin was going to _die_ , instead of just losing his damn virginity) and he _had_ stayed away from the party, but _Merlin_ \- Merlin had come back, _after_ being hauled down from the staircase (Arthur had heard something and got up, had pressed his ear to the door and heard Merlin whining as Morgana told him ‘ _I said NO_ ’ and ‘ _Merlin, come ON_ ’ and it had been pathetic and adorable and completely ridiculous and Arthur had been smiling for half an hour after). Merin had come back after being thrown out of the house quite literally, after sulking away towards his bus (Arthur had watched that from the window), after all that, he’d been back, smiling at Morgana and playing clueless, probably pretending to have missed his bus and finally making his way back into the house while Morgana took off in her cab.

And so now… Now, Merlin was _in his house_. Slightly _drunk_ probably and they were _alone_ and Merlin was _eighteen_ and he was here and Arthur was here and Arthur was digging through his suitcase again, thinking _no, no, no, it’s all wrong, it’s not the right one, he won’t like it, I need to find that black one or the light blue one and I need, I NEED_ -

He took another breath, stopped himself again, possibly from spiraling into a pretty horrible panic attack and took out the shirt that he’d picked out in the first place, the one he already knew Merlin would like best and put it on, put on a pair of black jeans too, tried to convince himself to re-pack his suitcase, got halfway through that before he ran out of patience and opened the door to the hallway, carefully like Merlin would be able to hear him all the way up there, then snuck into the hallway, tiptoed downstairs, wanted to catch Merlin by surprise and _keep him there_.

He followed the subtle range of noises, found himself heading for the kitchen, making out Merlin’s shape in there and feeling his heart go faster, faster, faster in his chest, luckily felt some kind of focus descend on him too.

Merlin was talking, he realised, and Arthur almost thought someone else was there for half a disappointed second, before he realised Merlin was talking to _himself_ , practicing _lines_ , the absolute _idiot_ and _oohhh_ how Arthur was going to tease him for that and _oh,_ how Arthur could _do this_ , could do it so easily, leant up against the doorway and interrupted Merlin at what he thought had to be the most embarassing time and thought that he had this, absolutely _had_ it, could _do it_ , could play Merlin easily and make this whole, mad thing work.

-———-

Arthur stood in the doorway of his room, leaning on the left side, watched as Merlin lost himself to his instincts, sprinted away like Arthur was half a step behind him, like he couldn’t have predicted that that second attack was a feint too. And well, maybe, _maybe_ in that simple-minded, panicked state of his, maybe he couldn’t.

Arthur felt strange. His fingers were sort of tingling, his toes too, his mind oddly calm, oddly quieter now, somehow, even after the absolute pandemonium Merlin had of course ( _of course_ ) released on them, despite Arthur’s best efforts to keep him down.

There was something else there too. Some kind of half-pleasant— Well, there was _relief_ of some sort, relief that he had revealed so much to Merlin and still not seen so much as a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Hope, maybe. Fear, definitely.

(Endlessly.)

And there was resignation. Because of course it would end here. (Begin here.) The road had always gone this way, towards everything that could go wrong and there was no resisting it anymore, nowhere to run. (Well- figuratively.)

There was just this fall, this crash, this jumping-in-with-your-whole-body-and-hoping-you-could-swim.

There was Merlin and his stubbornness, his foolish fearlessness and he had better _god damn_ know what he was doing, because Arthur wasn’t ready to lose him right after he had finally gotten him, after finally having had him in his bed, so pretty and sleep-warm and happy to be there, even like that, that Arthur had deserted all his wicked plans for half a second, had had to just get his clothes off and lie there with him, skin against skin.

He could hear Merlin on the stairs now, feet tapping madly against the wooden boards, and Arthur smiled a bit to himself, shook his head slowly because this was just _mad_ , absolute _madness_ , and maybe if he just went up there to calm him down, maybe if he used that _voice_ , maybe he could tell Merlin to _stop it_ and just give up, just _give it up_ and come back to bed and they could find another way, _he_ could find another way, he could learn to just-

Arthur let out a deep sigh.

_He had to make him promise_.

God damn Merlin and that way he knew him so god damn well.

He slumped a bit against the doorframe for a moment, then turned around, found a fresh pair of boxers, some soft jeans and another of those white shirts Merlin liked him in so much.

He didn’t know exactly what it was about it, wearing clothes while Merlin was naked, but he liked it, really, _really_ liked it, would rather not think too much about it actually, about that or what he was going to do to Merlin when he caught him, how Merlin would be completely out of it, would melt so easily when Arthur put his hands on him again and just—

No, in fact, Arthur wasn’t going to think at all, he was just gonna- Well, he might want to bring a condom, actually, maybe that smooth leather belt too, could just wear that like it was meant to keep his jeans up, and maybe he should consider- And maybe that flogger too or-

Or, no.

Or no, enough. Enough, enough, _enough_ already.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths, Pendragon, _Merlin is out there, up there, driving himself crazy and he needs you and enough, enough, enough fear, just go to him and face him and face yourself and give him what you told him you would._

Give him everything like you always knew you would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi agaaaainnnn <3 I really hope you liked that. If you diiiid I will absolutely love you forever if you leave me a comment down below ⬇️ and/or some lovely, lovely kudos. In case you don’t already know, comments are some of the most rewarding types of feedback (for me at least) when doing this kind of thing and while all ( _all_ ) types are adored, long comments are a special breed of awesome. Also, if you’ve commented before, that really only makes it better. (And if you for whatever reason don’t want to comment or kudos that’s also entirely fine and I’m really not trying to guilt anyone into anything at all.)
> 
> ANYWAYS. If you _did_ enjoy this, I suppose you might be thinking about the arrival of the next chapter. I won’t lie; It’ll be a little while. I have to write… a _lot_ of porn 😁 And it has to be _just so_ and I have to be really clever some time in May and tell some very clever people about my thesis project and convince them to proclaim me a _Master of Physics_ and I’ll need some energy for that. So. It’ll come. Will it come earlier if you ask for it very nicely? Probably not all that much. I encourage this anyways. Please do pester me, I adore attention.
> 
> ALSO some lovely people have talked about doing fanart for this story and if you do PLEASE let me know so I can throw some links in here for other people to find <3
> 
> Is that all? I think that’s all. Aaaall the love to all of you and I look forward to coming back here and posting again when the next chapter is finished.


End file.
